


Lions, Tigers, and Bears - Oh My!

by Ending_Daley



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: F/M, Kid Fic, single dad owen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ending_Daley/pseuds/Ending_Daley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen Grady lives life through its motions. Taking each day before the next, six-year-old son by his side. That is, until he meets Claire Dearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, it's here. Part One. 
> 
> I didn't want to post this until the whole thing was complete, but it's slowly killing me, and I need to admit that it's likely going to be WAY longer than I was/still am expecting.
> 
> Just a few things for this here little AU:  
> Setting, is San Diego. I know nothing about San Diego. I google sometimes.  
> Everyone is five years younger than what they were in the film. (Claire; 29, Owen; 31, Gray; 7, Zach; 12 ... and so on).  
> That's it. For now.

He didn’t know how he managed to end up there. It was becoming a bad habit every year without fail since his son was born. Last minute shopping was almost a ritual to their Christmas holidays. The frustration of missing out on hot items, and general rush of other last minute shoppers. They enjoyed it though, and although he promised for it to be different every year, they always wound up in the same place. He and Bear, wandering the aisles of their local mall, perusing shelves, picking special things for family.  

Nat King Cole sang _The Christmas Song_ over the speakers, a customer behind him hummed Jingle Bells. Ladies in festive jumpers argued over what they had picked for nieces and nephews, while little Bear Grady, age six, stared lovingly at the wall of LEGO. Owen always bought him something on these trips. Something the boy _really_ wanted, something that he never knew about until Christmas day, but always something he pointed out on their Christmas Eve trips. 

His father was unprepared, had been for years. He was the worst concerning Christmas, telling his boy that he never had time to come home for the holidays while he was in the Navy. It stopped being a family tradition, and instead, an estranged custom he stopped trying to understand. He did it for Bear. His was all they had, in terms of immediate family. There was Nan, and Pa, and Lorna, too. Even Uncle Travis and his new wife, but they lived overseas and never had much time. They existed over the holidays. But, Owen explained, they were adults, Christmas; although about family, was so much more important with little children in the house.

Owen was there somewhere, searching a seperate isle for _something_. Bear stuck to the LEGO, admiring the collection from a few steps away. His eyes kept wandering towards the large boxes on the bottom shelves. The big pieces. The _expensive_ ones that took days to build and drove his father crazy. He could only obsessively covet some of those things, they were rare in his home - although spoiled - his father just could not afford them on a frequent, or repetitive basis. 

He was listening to people around him, more than anything. His eyes scanning over the boxes as a staff member in the walkway behind him awkwardly tried to assist a customer. A grandmother tutted to herself about a present for her granddaughter, and a man called out for his stray child. He heard the click of heels approaching him on the tiled floor. Bear stepped aside, eyes still flicking over boxes of the constructible bricks. 

Standing just to his right, the woman huffed. Out the corner of his eye he could see her biting on her fingernail, mouth pulled in confusion. He watched her, instead of daydreaming about LEGO. Her bright red hair pulled him in, Bear was trusting. _Too trusting_ , his father always groaned. Maybe it was her easily read confusion towards LEGO that caused him to squeak out a soft _‘hello’._ It was baffling to the six-year-old as to why anyone would be confused by LEGO. He _had_ to know why. 

The look on her face fluttered with worry as she turned to address the little voice that’d greeted her. A smile nipped at the corners of her mouth, relief flashing through blue eyes. 

She stepped towards him slowly, cautious. Where Bear should have been scared of strangers, the woman in her high healed shoes seemed more scared than he would ever be. ‘You’re just the little helper I need.’ Bear grinned, flashing the red headed woman his missing two front teeth. ‘Kids your age like this stuff, right?’ He nodded his blond head enthusiastically, grin widening across his honey cheeks. She gave him a crooked, funny smile causing the boy to laugh at her easily. ‘What one would you pick?’ She asked him softly, crouching down to his height as to look into his olive green eyes.

Bear didn’t hesitate, his hand flying out to tap the glossy box he’d been admiring for a good fifteen minutes. He was talking, without thought, telling the woman about how he and his dad were _so_ excited for the new set. It was on the top of their Christmas lists. 

The woman pursed her lips, smile still present against her cheeks. She didn’t have time to say what she was clearly going to say, when a gruff voice half growled, _’Can I help you?’_ It was territorial, low, in the back of the man’s throat. The little boy only grinned, peering around the woman’s shoulder to smile shyly at the man behind her. 

She stood, without hesitation, hand smoothing out the skirt she wore. ‘Sorry,’ She placed the man’s face immediately once she saw him, the boy beside her a carbon copy, only he stood at her hip, whereas his father was certainly a few inches taller than her. ‘He looked to be about my nephew’s age - thought he could help.’ She shrugged, smile faint, business face on. The man was large, bulky and tall. She was used to intimidating suits in conference rooms, lanky quiet men or loud beer bellies. They’d exercised their primal instinct to dominate her in the work place, and she knocked them down a few steps every time. But this, she was trapped between a man and his young child, the situation should only defuse itself with her stepping away. 

‘Well then, you’d know about teaching kids _stranger danger_. And you,’ He pointed towards the boy, after the woman stepped out of his line of sight. ‘You know better’. 

‘Honestly, it was my fault,’ She stepped in, ‘I’m useless with this _stuff’_. She rolled her wrist, indicating the wall. She’d put it off for so long; the trip to see her sister, her nephew’s gifts. And now it all hit her, the day before her flight. ‘Here; I’m Claire,’ she extended a hand. She was sure that there was no maternal bone in her body, she was awkward enough with her nephews, but she could at least understand the man’s security for his son. He blinked, slowly, watching the small grin expand across her face. She was flirting - she was flirting with him.

‘Owen,’ He took her hand, soft smile pushing past his lips. ‘And, Bear.’ He cringed at the slight flicker of humour in her eyes. It was a common reaction, but he would stick to his guns, despite what his mother said, what his siblings thought, and what preconceptions strangers developed. He was raising his son on his own, he named him Bear and no one could stop him. 

‘Are you gonna get this one, Claire?’ Bear asked, shrugging his shoulders at formalities as he pulled the box off the shelf. 

She couched down again, mindful of the soccer mom behind them and her wayward shopping cart. Claire took the box in her hands, examining it carefully. She hummed, ‘Should I?’ She was going to buy it, of course she was, she didn’t have time to deliberate the ins and outs of a gift. Regardless, she found herself humouring the sweet boy who’d spoken to her, when his father had taught him otherwise. Bear nodded, blond curls bouncing on his head. 

The phone she was holding started to buzz obnoxiously as the boy handed over the box, tapping at the characters on the top, unnecessarily telling her who they were. She looked at the device, cringing at the caller ID before she forced an easy, awkward smile for the boy. ‘I really have to take this, but, thank you for your help, Bear.’ The boy sparkled a smile, pride beaming across his cheeks as Claire tucked the box under her arm, phone to her ear and walked away. She stopped at the escalators to turn her head over her shoulder, offering a small wave before she descended. 

‘She was nice,’ Bear shrugged, turning his back on the escalators returning to his admiration of the wall of LEGO.

Tapping the boy on the shoulder, Owen rolled his eyes, ‘You’re in deep trouble, big guy’. Bear only shrugged again, small whine to his voice as he promised he was only helping. She certainly looked like she needed help.

*

 

The holidays passed without a hitch. Bear greedily dug into his gifts without remorse. His grandmother managed to smother him in affection, drowning him in delicious treats and hearty food. He relished in the holiday season, not just because it was Christmas and he was six-years-old, but that he basked in well placed attention.

Which was why he was sulking at his father’s kitchen counter, head in one hand while he drew lazy circles in his cornflakes. ‘Do I have to?’ He whined, and Owen could already see him dragging his feet down the sidewalk. They hadn’t even managed to lace his shoes yet. 

‘Yes,’ Owen tapped his son on the head, laughing at his resistance. Bear didn’t argue anymore than that, he took the word as final, finished his breakfast, and ran off to find his school bag. That didn’t stop him from dragging his feet through the school gate, or staring back at his father with large puppy eyes. Owen waited, as he always did, standing by the school gate until the final morning bell was called. Bear knew he was there,knew that if he needed anything, if he was uncomfortable at all, his father would take him away. Although the boy bemoaned school in the morning, he always went gladly and returned with a happy smile. 

It wasn’t every morning that Owen collected a coffee before work. He didn’t usually have time for the luxury, mostly running behind on schedule. With Bear back into a somewhat normal routine, they managed to leave the house on time. 

His favourite coffee shop sat only a little ways before the city Zoo. They were a small, independent brew that rose from a street corner. With everyone rushing to the closest Starbucks preferring corporate coffee over home brewed, it was always quiet. Not enough that the business was doomed but enough to keep the place intimate. He’d known the owners and staff for years, enough that they knew his order the second he stepped through the door - and always had extra muffins for Bear. 

The barista, Louise, smiled at him as he stepped in the door, bell ringing to announce a new customer. She nodded briskly, letting him know she’d make his order without his having to place it - or pay for it if he didn’t push them - despite the fact that there was a small line of about three people in front of him. 

He waited, not that he had a choice, although they loved him there, Louise would not push his order in front of other customers. The woman in front of him seemed strikingly familiar. She smelt heavenly, vanilla lotion and something flowery - Jasmine? Gardenias? He wasn’t too sure, but it was pleasant none the less. He watched the shape of her legs, eyes tracing from the heel of her shoe up her smooth calves, clad in a black pencil skirt. It was her hair that triggered him, trimmed a little neater now, slopping off the roll of her shoulder. It was red, almost alive with the burnt fire of its colour. He was never one to forget a redhead who’d flirted with him. 

‘How’d your nephew like the gift?’ He asked, leaning in to mutter it softly towards her ear. Too close, he gathered, when she jumped at the sound, ankle rolling awkwardly. She stumbled, almost fell, her hand flying out to brace herself against his chest. ‘Whoa there, tiger!’ Owen teased, one hand looping around her waist to hold her up. 

Claire glared at him, blue eyes blazing as she corrected her balance and stood straight. Only after a second did her features soften, hands fattening out the crinkles on her shirt. ‘He _loved_ it.’ Her smile was small, gratuitous, and slightly flighty. ‘Did …’ She paused, eyes wandering to her left trying to recall the little boy’s name, ‘… _Bear_ have a good Christmas?’ 

Owen’s grin climbed up his cheeks, his head nodding. ‘Yeah, yeah, he did. Thanks for asking. And, hey, you remembered his name.’

‘It’s not every day that you meet little boy’s named Bear.’ 

Owen shrugged, ‘Sure it is. There’s like four of them in his class - even a little girl named Otter’. Claire raised an eyebrow in disbelief, which caused Owen to laugh, ‘I’m kidding. I’m pretty sure he’s the only one’. Claire fluttered another smile. He could tell she wanted to ask, wanted to know why he’d named his child after an animal. Usually he’d offer it up, spill out the dramatic story of the day his son was born, the day his girlfriend fled, and the Navy Marine who quit his job to stay with his tiny infant. Maybe, too, he’d been a little too tuned into Bear Grylls, but that he would never admit to anyone. 

Louise called her name, handing her coffee over the counter. Claire took it thankfully, holding it in one hand as she started to say goodbye to Owen. ‘Hey, ah, maybe - maybe I’ll see you around?’ Owen asked, hesitantly, shifting the weight between his feet. Claire nodded, smile growing as she flicked her eyes down towards the screen of her phone. He’d met her twice now, and on both occasions she’d been distracted by the device. Owen irrationally hated it. 

‘I’d really like that,’ She smiled, teeth biting into her lip, cheeks colouring softly. Owen blinked, staring at her as if she were a dream. A fiery haired siren prepared to drown him at all costs. She winked, as his heart flatlined. And with that, she stepped out the door. 

*

 

‘What happened?’ Barry, his coworker asked, when Owen finally arrived at work, dazed look on his face. Owen shook his head, quickly brushing off a _nothing_ to his friend. ‘That look doesn’t say nothing, Owen. Who is she?’ Owen stopped, his coffee hanging midway in the air, just above the table. 

‘What makes you think there’s a she?’ Barry raised a brow, ‘Fine!’ Owen huffed. ‘We ran into her on Christmas Eve, she was looking for a gift for her nephew.’ 

‘We, as in you and Bear?’ Owen nodded, rolling his eyes a little. It wasn’t a secret that he kept his son from potential dates - which in the five years of Bear’s life, only calculated to one a year. He wasn’t interested, only partook in the blind dates to appease his friends. None of them were right, none of them seemed to _click._ It was never just a girlfriend he was looking for, but a potential mother for his son, too. No one wanted that - and that was evident before he even mentioned having a young son. 

Owen couldn’t risk introducing Bear to someone would just up and leave him. It had to be for the long haul, or not at all. 

He explained as much as he could, from the second he hear Bear utter a quiet hello to Claire’s flirtatious goodbye. Barry just laughed, tapping his friend on the shoulder as he announced something along the lines of being in too deep. There wasn’t time to discuss it, they had to make it to the rotunda for the morning staff meeting. 

The group, just in front of them was the same as every morning bar three people. Three people dressed in flashy business attire rather than the laid-back zoo cargo the staff were required to wear. Two women. One man. Owen froze, only a few steps away from the congregated group. Claire. He cursed under his breath, of course it was Claire. She was standing next to the man Owen instantly recognised as Simon Masrani, the girl next to her, seemingly her assistant. Her eyes caught his and grew wide with surprise before she collected herself. 

Barry tapped him on the arm, ‘That her?’ He mouthed, laugh drifting from his lips as he dragged his friend along. ‘You’re in trouble, man.’ Owen nodded slowly, watching the slight lines at the corners of her mouth and the humour in her eyes. _At least she thought it was funny._

Simon Masrani explained with bountiful excitement why he was there. His company, Masrani Global, were going to endorse a banquet dinner right there, on zoo grounds. He wanted to open the gates after hours and let the city - if not the country’s elite through the doors. He wanted trainers to standby, guides to fact up, and for the best to be on display. The goal: to raise money for the zoo, that would in turn benefit the city. ‘Claire here will be overseeing the project, set for a few weeks time. If you have any questions, she’ll be at your service’. Owen grinned, catching her eye for the fourth time since he had joined the group. 

Barry pulled him away, the two of them starting their days work once the meeting was over, Claire left behind. He expected that would be the last of it, that he might catch her once or twice before the banquet, and maybe in the morning at Lowery’s cafe. He, however, did not expect to hear her voice descending on the Lion’s Den.

A small viewing alcove had been set up outside the lion enclosure, they called it The Den, a few picnic tables, shaded seating, and a glorious view of his animals. It was one of Bear’s favourite spots in the whole zoo, a place they’d sit once Owen finished his closing duties, Bear working on his homework. The crew, on occasion, would find themselves eating dinner out there, pitching in, like a small village, to Bear’s life over the years. Seeing Claire approach the slight ramp was his last expectation. 

She was talking to the woman who’d stood beside her that morning, taking notes as Claire pointed at this and that. ‘They got you working as party planner?’ Owen called out, smirk pulling at one side of his lips. 

Claire stepped towards him slowly, something tantalising swaying in her hips. ‘If you must know, Mr Grady,’ She read his last name from the embroidery on his shirt. ‘I’ve been promoted to CEO of Masrani Global’s San Diego branch. This small task is only here for me to familiarise myself with the city and our assets.’

Owen whistled, long and low. ‘Impressive’. 

Claire curtsied a little, ‘Glad you agree’. 

Owen threw a look towards Barry, the man only a few steps behind him, in disbelief. Barry only rolled his eyes. 

‘Let me get this straight,’ He started, later that afternoon once Claire had left and their zoo was free from Masrani Global. ‘She knows you have a kid and she’s _still_ flirting with you?’ Owen shrugged, ‘No, see, I thought you were imagining it. But, in The Den, the tension was so thick I think the temperature rose’. Owen laughed, ‘Are you going to ask her out?’ Owen shook his head, explaining that he didn’t even know her last name let alone a point of contact. ‘At least we know she’ll be here for the banquet.’

*

 

Owen saw Claire again, before the banquet. More than once actually. He faded into the background just to watch her, rather than run head on into another collision. She was beautiful, he’d learnt that much the second he first saw her. Short red hair, blue eyes, pale skin - and likely the most _adorable_ freckles he had ever seen on the bridge of someone’s nose. 

He told himself that he wasn’t avoiding her. _He was_. 

He knew animals better than people. He knew his own son better than animals, but there was no comparison to anyone else. He and Bear had been inseparable since the boy was born. 

They were running late for school that morning, Owen half frantic as he drove down the laneway. They’d run out of bread, and milk, and school snacks - and eggs, if he was being honest. He didn’t know how he’d lost sight of the shopping, but he did and suddenly there was no food. Bear had to go to school, and there was no food. 

And so, he’d driven them to Lowery’s in half panic, despite the fact that they weren’t going to be late at all. Lowery only rolled his eyes when they stepped through the front door, bell chiming happily as Bear passed under his father’s arm. ‘Daddy forgot to buy food again!’ He announced, letting that morning’s patrons know that he had failed, and not for the first time. 

Bear ran off towards the counter, where Lowery promised to make him a sandwich, and told him to pick a muffin. Owen, however, was stopped by a slight giggle just to the right of the door. ‘Should have known you’d be here, today of all days.’ He huffed, catching sight of Claire sitting in the small reading nook, newspaper in her lap, mug in her hands. 

‘He’s grown,’ Claire nodded towards the little boy who was hanging off the counter. Legs kicking up behind him to hit his backpack. 

‘Kids do that,’ Owen shrugged, taking the seat opposite her. 

Claire smiled slowly, ‘You’ve been avoiding me.’ She told him, nonchalant. Owen blinked. ‘Don’t think I can’t see you trying to shrink into walls, or duck behind sheds at the zoo. You’re not as slight as you think you are, Mr Grady.’ Owen shrugged, it was worth it. She simultaneously fascinated and frightened him. He needed to observe her before he could properly approach. ‘Hello, Bear.’ She turned her head away from Owen, greeting the little boy who appeared beside his father. He grinned, big open mouthed smile, teeth showing, top two teeth still missing. 

‘Hi,’ He waved, shyly, sinking below the arm of his father’s chair. ‘We’re gonna be late for school,’ The boy mumbled, tapping on his father’s hand, fingers wrapping around his pinkie. He was playing shy, which for the first time; shocked Owen. He ruffled his son’s hair, smiling apologetically at Claire who only waved them off, encouraging the young boy to not be late. 

‘She’s the lady from the shop,’ Bear announced as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, his Lowery made lunch in his hands. 

‘Yes she is,’ Owen nodded, unable to quell the smile that grew across his cheeks, or the wink that skipped across his eye as he caught Claire in the cafe window. ‘Her name is Claire, is it alright if I see her from time to time?’ It had always just been them. Although Bear was a child, he would always as his opinion on things first. Bear nodded, leaning his back against his father’s truck once they reached it. 

‘’S all right,’ The boy shrugged, nonchalant. 

*

 

He stopped avoiding her after that. With Bear’s permission tucked under his belt Owen met Claire at Lowery’s almost every morning. He mostly arrived without Bear, the boy dropped to school on time, already well through his classes. It didn’t mean his habit of forgetting to shop for food ceased. Sometimes the boy was dragged along. They talked, like adults, which wasn’t all that unfamiliar to Owen, but still foreign outside of the zoo. He was used to talking to Bear, to Barry, his other co-workers, his mother and sister. He was not used to talking to beautiful women who held and interest in him as a human being. 

They shared stories, experiences. She learnt that he and Bear surf, that he taught his son to play guitar, and their next adventure was fly fishing. They were nature boys. Hair slick with mud, braided with leaves, war paint stretched across their cheeks. 

He learnt that she wouldn’t touch any of those things with a ten foot pole; usually. It now all seemed like a grand adventure, excited gleam glowing in her blue eyes. She signed contently when he told her about his little cabin in the woods, a vacation spot for he and Bear in the summer. 

She admitted to being nervous around children, her own nephews included. Two boys, Owen learnt, one close in age to Bear, the other a little older. He told her he never noticed. Bear, who picked up on everything, never commented on her nervous energy. If anything, Bear loved to point out the honest traits in people. 

As it turned out, the closer they got to the banquet, the more Claire sought him out. Often, he was wandering the perimeter of his lion’s enclosure, or hoisting up activities inside the glass walls while the animals were out for the vet. He waved at her through the glass, or called out _‘Hey Tiger_ ,’ when he saw her on the path. 

It wasn’t usual for her to be around on a Saturday afternoon. But she was there, standing beside Bear in the The Den, watching Owen through the glass. He grinned, waving at her enthusiastically. Claire fluttered a smile, arms crossed over her chest, hand in her phone. ‘Is he always like that?’ She asked the boy beside her, chuckling a little. 

Bear looked up from his not book, eyes cast over to his father before fluttering towards Claire. ‘Like what?’ 

‘Goofy’.

Bear shrugged, ‘That’s just Dad’. Claire agreed that it certainly made her laugh. ‘Can you help me?’ He asked her softly, voice quiet as he tapped his pencil against his cheek. Claire blinked, her posture softening, arms slacking from her chest. 

‘Ah,’ She started, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, ‘I can try’. Bear watched her, head tilted back to study her face. He had a distinct feeling that Claire had never been wrong in her life. Her hesitancy was because of him. Because he was small or because she liked his dad, he wasn’t sure. It didn’t sway him either way. His math problems wouldn’t solve themselves, and he needed help with some. 

She peered over his book, looking over his shoulder at the easy addition sums. It was basic math she could do in her head without so much as batting an eyelash. But she knew, with no real experience, that spouting the correct number to the boy wouldn’t exactly help him. Sure, he would have the answer, but how would he learn. 

‘Can I borrow your pencil?’ She asked gently, accepting the instrument when the boy placed it in the palm of her hand. Claire was sitting next to Bear when Owen finished with the lion enclosure. They were both pouring over his notebook, set of equations in front of them. In a calm, even voice, Claire was explaining the boy’s math homework, easily. Owen listened to the numbers, to her explanation and quickly gathered that Bear had asked for help. Claire stepped up to the plate. 

‘How’s everything coming along?’ He interrupted, enquiring into the banquet plans. Claire jumped, a little startled as she put a foot between herself and Bear. Owen rolled his eyes. He didn’t know where she came from in thinking that she was in trouble for helping. He dropped the bucket he was holding to the picnic table she and Bear were seated at, ruffling his son’s hair, and commenting on his mathematics.‘Thanks for helping,’ He nodded, flashing her a thankful smile. 

‘It was no trouble,’ Claire whispered, cheeks flushing. ‘I stopped in to clear a few details with your boss. The banquet’s set to run as planned. Numbers should be in tomorrow.’ Owen nodded, feigning interest. He was dying for the whole thing to be over, if he was being honest. It was nice to have Claire around - Owen certainly wondered what would happen to their routine once she no longer had to stop by the zoo. It was everything else that was driving him, and the other staff members mental. 

Bear packed up his belongings as if on cue for what was next. Both adults watched him for a moment, books slid home into his _Star Wars_ backpack before he turned to Claire. ‘You wanna come get lunch with us?’ Bear asked without checking with his father first. Claire recognised the chain of command, smiling politely at the little boy before looking towards his father. Owen nodded. She was more than welcome to join them. 

*

 

‘What do you think?’ Owen asked, as he put a plate down in front of his son. Bear didn’t blink, eyes glued to the TV screen, entrapped in his tenth viewing of _A New Hope_. He knew there was fault in introducing the boy to _Star Wars_. Owen had created a monster out of his own son. ‘Bear,’ He called for his attention, ‘What do you think of Claire?’ 

Bear shrugged, he liked to shrug, it was a nasty habit he’d picked up from the playground that made Owen want to scream. ‘She talks to me like a grown up’. 

‘Does that bother you?’ 

Bear shook his head, ‘Makes me feel like a grown up’. His scooped a spoon full of pasta into his mouth before adding something else; ‘I like her’. 

*

 

The banquet was in full swing before anyone could blink. Claire was busy organising every inch of the night, so much so, Owen doesn’t see her until he lost his son. 

It was likely too soon to demand the night a success. Regardless, every inch of the zoo grounds was teeming with unfamiliar faces, prospective investors, and one time; but large sum, donators. He was thirty-one, and even Owen found himself a little overwhelmed at the number of people and the look of the place. His zoo, his safe haven, had been turned into a five star restaurant complete with matching decor and a dance floor. He should have expected to loose Bear in the pandemonium, but had thought himself a better guard over his son than anyone else. 

He tried not to worry. Bear practically grew up inside the zoo gates. If anything he’d find a familiar spot, like The Den, or the staff lounge, and wait for Owen to find him. At least, that’s what they had discussed, after the last time. Owen scrubbed his hand over his face, stubble tickling his palm as he exhaled in frustration. _Of course_. He couldn’t shout out, not with this many people around, his best bet was to just start looking. 

Claire was talking to a bigwig investor. That was the point of the night. Throwing money at the zoo, and Claire mingling with potential future clients. Masrani wanted her to get to know the lay of the land. The zoo had been their opportunity. She was thrown off balance, mid sentence, something small and strong hurtling into her legs. 

‘Bear?!’ It was undeniable, that the small blonde head, just below her hip was Bear Grady. His little arms wrapped around her legs, gripping on tight as he started to shake. The investor stepped away, eyebrow arched, disapproval playing across his face. 

Claire stared down at Bear’s blond head. Hands hovering inches away from him, glass of wine in one. A sniffle escaped him, breaking past the fabric of her designer dress. Her heart stopped - her dress. _He was crying on her dress_. Claire Dearing was not world renowned for her ability to interact with children. She had found some ease with Bear, but even then, the fear caught in her throat about her dress almost over ruled the fear she should have had for the young boy. 

She crouched, as best she could, glass of wine discarded on a nearby table as she wrapped her arms around Bear. She hugged him for a second, before prying his face from her clothes, begging him to tell her what was wrong. 

His little cries were heart-wrenching, his honey face pink, his blue eyes shining like sapphires in contrast. ‘There - there’s too many people. I lost my dad.’ Claire tried to shush him gently, wiping the tears from his cheeks and pushing his unruly curls from his forehead. She straightened the waistcoat he wore, trying to flatten out the crinkles while she ignored the fact that he was wearing dark wash jeans to a formal event.

‘It’s all right,’ She hummed, wiping the fresh tears from his cheek, again. ‘Hey,’ She tapped his chin, trying to get Bear to crack a smile. ‘I’ll help you find him, he can’t be that far. You know, we could probably shout _“loins aren’t the best animal in the zoo”_ and he’d jump right up from behind the table.’ Bear giggled, as avoice called out behind them; 

‘Oi,’ His whole face transformed. Where he was lost and forlorn, he was suddenly hopeful and full of pure excitement. She spared a look over her shoulder, finding Owen only a few feet away, dressed almost exactly the same as his son. She wanted to roll her eyes at the jeans, and then roll them at herself; she should have expected the wardrobe. ’I heard that,’ 

‘See,’ Claire grinned, ‘Told you he’d turn up’. Bear raced past her, throwing himself into the arms of his father, as though he hadn’t seen the man in a year. Owen embraced Bear easily, catching him in a tight hug as he dropped a kiss to the top of his son’s scruffy head. 

Claire rose, stretching slowly as her dress fell back into place. She could tell Owen was watching at the semi-tight fabric resettled. The dress was simple, all black, plunging neckline to the bottom of ribcage, a slit right up the tight. She could hear his words, flowing, unconstructed, barely strung together, as he tried to check over Bear, his eye more than likely caught on her dress. Claire grinned, satisfaction burning in her chest, chuckle tickling at her tongue. 

‘ _God_ , I could kiss you’. Owen’s voice was suddenly a lot closer than she realised, his whisper loud in her ears. His shoulder brushed against hers, stepping closer to speak to her, voice trying to carry over the loud nose of rich chatter. Claire didn’t know if it was the dress or the gratitude. She had noticed the fading fear in his eyes once he’d found them. Ten minutes away from Bear, he was practically a drowning man. 

Claire grinned, the smile almost devilish on her lips. ‘Why don’t you?’ His eyes flickered down to his son, clasping onto his hand tightly, determined to not let go, to not get lost again. 

‘I’d much prefer to take you on a proper date first.’ The blush on his cheeks was real. He was embarrassed and out of practice. It’d been years since he needed to ask a girl out, let alone ask her out because he wanted to. He wondered briefly if Bear would have ask her for him, given some time. The boy managed rather well with timing. Claire, on more than one occasion, had joined them for lunch just because Bear had asked. 

She hummed, dragging out the moment for a few seconds too long. Her nod was soft, her whisper of _‘okay_ ’ was softer. They grinned at each other for what felt like eternity, neither of them stepping away or forward, until Bear yawned, long and loud, slight whimper clinging to the corner of his lips. Reminded of his son, and the late hour, let alone the still significant trauma of loosing him for an extended space of time, Owen snapped out of his daze. 

‘I’ll call you,’ He promised, just as Zara tapped Claire on the shoulder, drawing her attention to another important guest. 

Owen only managed to get a few steps away before Bear tore from his grip and ran towards Claire. He wrapped his arms around her legs for the second time that evening, squeezing hard as he wished her goodnight. Claire couldn’t help the flutter in her chest, as she bent to hug him in return, his words echoing on her lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to harass me if I’ve not updated this in a couple of weeks. I have an issue with abandoning multi-chapter’d fics.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to me royally messing the rest of this fic up. Please, take a seat ... there will be no popcorn.

He was late.  

Had she not known Owen Grady and his horrible schedules; she would have panicked. Instead, she paced the sidewalk once more, waiting for Owen before she went into the restaurant. That’s what they had organised, it was a plan. She wasn’t about to just waltz in there and take a table until he was by her side. 

Owen wheezed out her name, a few shop fronts behind her. He was jogging, shoes slapping against the pavement, flowers in his hand threatening to fall apart with the momentum. Claire’s shoulders relaxed, deep breath filling her lungs just at the simple sight of him. In the same blink, her heart plummeted. There was Owen, stepping towards her, wearing a sharp soft blue button up shirt, and cargo shorts. _Cargo shorts_. She was sure a cold sweat settled over her skin, anxiety ticking in the back of her head, setting off alarm bells that she was overdressed. _No, he’s underdressed._

‘I’m so _sorry_ I’m late!’ He approached her, breath escaping his lungs in a deep huff. He caught his breath, inhaling deeply for one second, two before he extended the small bouquet of flowers in his hand. They were hand picked, something easily pulled from a neighbourhood garden, daisies and pansy’srather than the peculiar exotics found at a florist. Claire was humbled none the less, accepting the flowers with a kiss to his cheek. 

His hand found the small of her back, gently guiding the two of them into the restaurant. She bit her tongue, holding back a comment about his attire. He started, once they sat down, her eyes once again drifting towards his bear legs, other patrons watching also. ‘Bear was painting,’ Owen explained, ‘He ran to give me a hug, and didn’t realise there was paint on his hands. I do own long pants, _I swear_ , they just got ruined’. She laughed him off, slight embarrassment lifting from her chest. Although she preferred to live by the dress code, there was something endearing about the mental image of a paint sticky Bear running to hug his father. How could she be disgruntled over a child’s love?

‘How is Bear?’ She enquired, thanking the waiter who filled her glass with wine. It’d been two weeks since she’d seen the boy and his father. Once business was done with the zoo, there was no need to be there. Her trips to Lowery’s had to cease in order to cooperate with early morning board meetings. She’d asked Zara once or twice to run down there, to try and spot Owen, but the small coffee shop was just too far out of the way. 

Owen called her on occasion, her number saved in his phone, and his in hers. It wasn’t anywhere near the same as standing in front of him. Their conversations were lazy, familiar and comfortable. All the same, it wasn’t enough. Claire found she rather missed having him standing in front of her. Without his presence she was unable to reach out to graze her fingers across his arm, or catch her breath on his deep green eyes. 

‘He’s good. But, you know, this is our date.’ His hand slid across the small table, easily entwining her fingers between his own, Owen ended the conversation on Bear. He knew, eventually, depending on how far he and Claire went, that he would have to tell her about Mary. Bear’s mother was by no means in the picture - she fled when the boy was born and never returned - still, Claire would need to be told. Bear had no memory of his mother, but Owen couldn’t risk the boy forming a serious attachment only to have Claire leave. 

He asked her about work, running Masrani Global’s San Diego headquarters. She asked him about the zoo in the wake of their starlight banquet. Things were fine in both respects, HQ and the zoo.

Dinner blazed past them, flickering like a stubborn birthday candle before finally going out. She was laughing on the sidewalk, swaying in her steps out of a good mood rather than alcohol. He watched her, two steps ahead of him, her hand in his pulling him along. Her laugh was electric, she was all coy shy giggles,and smiles reserved just for him. He would have followed her blindly into the ocean in that moment if she had asked.

Instead, they walked until she spotted his car. Her grin was devilish, curling up her cheeks in slow seduction as she backed towards his car. Owen swore he wouldn’t fall for anything, he would hold his resolve. He was weaker than he thought, crumbling against her the second her hands slid up the front of his shirt, and latched onto the lapels of his collar. He kissed her, she was toying with him and he broke. Somehow she wasn’t expecting it by the slight squeak that escaped her lips. 

He didn’t know how they managed to go from making out against his car, to creeping up the staircase of his home. Somewhere between the beginning and the middle, his sister, designated baby sitter for the night, had been dismissed, and quickly too. Owen learnt quickly that he didn’t think when Claire’s hands were on him, cool palms and thin fingers sliding under his shirt, scaling his back like he was a sculpture to the blind. 

Claire was giggling, loudly, enough so he had to break a kiss every few seconds to shush her, laughter on his own lips as he warned her about his sleeping son. It crossed his mind, in that second, standing in the middle of the stairwell, that he had a son - a six-year-old - asleep at the other end of the hall. Owen didn’t do this, didn’t bring women home whether he liked them or not. And he certainly, if the situation arose, did not have sex with his son in the house. But, Claire - Claire was melting ice on a hot burn. Or maybe it was the other way around, he was certainly melting against her, conforming to her every wish, just about ready to beg on his knees. 

Never once, did Owen feel like he was jeopardising something by being with Claire. It’d taken two weeks of separation to learn that he was missing her just by their simple interactions. He had brushed it off, initially, thinking it was ridiculous pining for a woman who likely couldn’t care less. And then he found her, hip perched against his desk in the small employee office. She’d brought him lunch, nothing more than a club sandwich, and the sweetest of kisses to his lips. They’d never exchanged numbers, or so she claimed, as she tapped a small note on his desk. The sandwich was accepted greedily, before he kissed her with hungry lips on his own volition.

It made sense that they ended up there. Even if he thought she deserved better. It’d been months, likely years since Owen had shared a bed with anyone. His son came first. And here was Claire, wrapped around him tightly, coiled like a snake, giggling as he pressed her against his bedroom door. Owen chuckled, humour vibrating against her throat as he lathered a sensitive spot behind her ear with attention. 

Claire learnt to keep it down, after the fifth reminder that they had to be quiet, his finger against her lips. He lost himself after that, calloused hands against smooth skin, tracing the lines of her hips. He was trapped against every inch of her, Claire holding power over him whether she realised it or not. Owen knew it was a bad idea, should have known from the second she climbed into his car. He wasn’t about to stop her now, not once she was void of her dress, writhing below him like he was the only one who could help her out. 

* 

Claire didn’t mean to sleep as late as she did. Her phone, on the floor of his bedroom read _8:07am_. She didn’t regret the actions of the night before, but perhaps the choice in his house over hers. Bear scared her senseless. There was something frightening about small children at her age, let alone small children already attached to men. He was sweet boy, kind and well spoken. She adored him just from the slight interactions they had. But, it was obvious Owen was trying to distance them. 

Claire Dearing understood attachment. That was the last thing she wanted for Bear. Especially, when she knew that she was not ready to commit to Owen, let alone his son. Somewhere between climaxing on top of Owen, and falling asleep beside him, Claire promised to herself that she would sneak out before Bear woke. Owen would understand, hell, she rationalised, he’d likely thank her. 

She shouldn’t have fallen asleep at all. But, Owen wrapped his arm around her waist so gently, the kiss to her shoulder warm, she couldn’t find the strength to drag herself away.

Rolling over, careful not to jostle the bed too much, Claire dropped a kiss to Owen’s fuzzy cheek. She climbed out of his bed slowly, scouring the floor and bed linen for her missing clothes. At this point, she didn’t care if she collected it all. So long as she had enough to stand on the sidewalk and wait for a cab, it would be enough. 

What time did children usually wake up, anyway?

She was swearing under her breath as she tiptoed down the flight of stairs. Claire couldn’t find her shoes. She’d gone so far as to get down on her knees and check under the bed, under the nightstand, and the small gap under his chest of drawers. _Nothing_. ‘They’re just a pair of shoes, Claire.’ She hissed, rolling her eyes at herself as she plucked her cardigan from the stair rail. ‘A pair of _really_ expensive Manolo Blahnik’s … cost your whole paycheque,’ she rolled her eyes again, at no one ‘Grow up. Who are _you_? Creeping out of someone’s house so their kid doesn’t ask questions … that’s not how these situations are supposed to go, Claire. He’ll call you when he finds your shoes - that’s if he _wants_ to call you’. Something stopped her at the bottom of the stairs, hand overing over the rail, external monologue stopped. She paused, listening intently, trying to pick up the noise. It jungled, the sound of metal clacking against metal as it moved. Her heart jumped into her chest, she was caught for certain. Claire was trying to mentally figure out what to do, Bear was six, it wasn’t like he was twenty, she could say good morning and walk right out the door. Hell, she could say nothing and walk right out. 

The noise got closer, matching with a slight scratch, as a labrador rounded the corner and stopped to stare right at her. Apparently, Owen and Bear Grady had a dog. Claire let out a heavy breath, hand on her chest as her heart rate slowed. She stepped down onto the bottom floor easily, not making a sound without her shoes. She passed a partial wall, on the home stretch to the door when a little, but familiar, voice called out to her. ‘Are you allowed to use the stove?’

Caught, Claire stopped. The smile that slipped across her face wasn’t forced as she turned to face Bear. He was sitting on the living room sofa, dressed in space pyjamas teddy in his lap. ‘Uh,’ She hesitated, confused by the question. ‘Yeah, I think so.’ 

‘Good,’ Bear jumped up, ‘I want pancakes’. Claire stared at him, watching as the boy moved for the kitchen behind him. She needed to go, this was exactly what she was trying to avoid. Bear shouldn’t have seen her. He was six, sure he didn’t know the ins and outs of relationships. But, he would join the dots. He would _think_ that she was there to stay if she was spending the night with his dad. He stopped halfway, feet sliding against the floorboards as he turned to walk back towards her. ‘C’mon,’ He took her hand, wrapping his little fingers around her palm before he tugged. 

She couldn’t go. She needed to go. Something else was telling her to stay. 

She threw one last look at the door. All she had to do was crouch down and tell him she had to go. It was Saturday morning, but the work card could still free her. Claire wasn’t too keen on finding out what heartbreak looked like on that little boy’s face. She’d seen him upset once before, when he’d lost Owen in the middle of the night during the zoo’s banquet dinner. His cheeks puffy, flushed red, his eyes desperate; she’d seen the look once, and never wanted to see it again. 

‘I don’t think I’m that great at pancakes,’ She told him honestly, biting her lip in shame. 

Bear shrugged, still pulling on her hand. ‘It’s okay, I know.’

He did, in fact, know how to make pancakes, not just from the packet; but from scratch. 

Flippantly, Bear introduced her to Beau, the dog who watched them from the corner of the living room, seemingly suspicious of Claire. She felt guilty, like she was cheating on her lonely live by invading on a Grady family morning. Her stomach was tying itself in knots, petrified of the second Owen would step into the kitchen. Claire stood in wait, mixing batter in anticipation of Owen’s reaction. He wouldn’t be pleased - she knew that much. He tried too hard to protect his son, to keep him from potential disappointment. She was setting herself up to fail. He’d push her away, cutting the ties before she could do it later. 

Her sister’s voice echoed in her head, Karen calling out to her, reminding Claire that she always prematurely screwed up. She set out to fail each and every time, even if there wasn’t a fault in the relationship. No matter if things were perfect from the beginning, she subliminally built a back up plan, reassurance that her partner would always end it before she had too. Or, in Karen’s opinion, _before things got too serious_. Her sister would spit chips at the news of Owen and his son. 

Claire helped Bear flip his first golden brown pancake, the boy set up on a stool beside the stove. She’d ensured that he was close enough to help, but not close enough to burn himself on the open flame. He cheered giddily, bouncing on his bum as he applauded their masterpiece. She couldn’t help the smile, a warm, happy, feeling bubbling in her chest. She was sure, without really knowing, that this was the feeling her sister always boasted about. 

They were halfway through flipping their fourth pancake when Owen’s voice grumbled a _‘good morning’_ from the hallway. Claire turned hesitantly, scared she would be met with an annoyed man. Instead, he looked indifferent, face still crumbled from sleep, hair a scruffy mess, and the only thing he was wearing was a pair of flannel pyjama pants. Mostly, he seemed shocked, stuck in the doorway, eyes focused on her, occasionally flicking to his son who was eagerly trying to flip the pancake in the pan out of impatience. She fluttered a small smile, refusing to look nervous around him. If he wanted her out, she’d leave, tail between her legs, and apologetic words on her lips. He, however did not frighten her. What did, was doing the right thing by Bear. 

‘I know we didn’t talk about it last night,’ Owen started after he sent Bear to feed the dog. ‘But, you weren’t supposed to still be here in the morning.’ His hand wound around her waist, landing comfortably on her hip, ‘That’s not to say I don’t want you here. It’s just …’ 

‘Bear,’ She finished for him. ‘Believe me, Owen, I understand. But, I don’t know, he was already up and I panicked. I was going to leave and then he took my hand and asked for pancakes. I didn’t know how to say no.’ 

Owen chuckled, ‘Most people panic out the door, not into the kitchen’. 

Claire shrugged, accepting the light kiss he dropped to the corner of her mouth. ‘I’m not most people’. 

‘Claire!’ Bear shrieked her name, feet pounding against the floorboards as he bounded into the kitchen. ‘Are you gonna watch _Jake and the Neverland Pirates_ with me?’ He asked, squeezing past her to get access to the pantry. He was practically jumping on the balls of his feet, ecstatic that she was there and that he was getting _pancakes_ for _breakfast._

She met Owen’s eye, looking to him for an appropriate response. Her track record with Bear’s questions, so far, had lead her to be standing in the Grady boys’ kitchen. Which was exactly where Owen did not want her to be, at this level of their relationship. This was her out. Her chance to say good morning and goodbye to Bear, and slip out the door. This was what she should have done before she let him drag her to the kitchen. With a large jar of peanut butter in his hands, Bear blinked at her with olive green eyes, expectant as his hugged the nutty spread. 

Claire crouched down to his height, wobbling a little on unsteady ankles before she focused and looked him in the eye. ‘I really need to be going home now,’ She told him, easily, her chest contracting at the pained look on his young face. This was exactly what Owen was trying to protect them both from; attachment. Claire was convinced that she was in no way attached to Bear Grady. Not at all, especially not when she’d only met him personally a handful of times. This was not attachment, this was hypnotic green eyes and a pouty bottom lip. Her own nephew never managed to manipulate her this way. 

‘Will you come over again?’ Bear asked, twisting the lid off the jar in his hand. Claire turned to look at Owen once again. She never sought permission from people in her life. It was do as she wills and do as she says. But this was Owen’s domain, this was Owen’s _son._ She needed his permission before promising Bear the world. He gave a short sharp nod, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, as he pulled out a bar stool from behind the bench. Claire gave Bear an affirmative. ‘Do you wanna watch _Star Wars_ with me?’ Owen laughed, plate sliding across the kitchen island as he rolled his eyes at his son. 

‘You need to let Claire go home, bud.’ Owen drawled around a mouthful of pancake. ‘Maybe next time she can decide what we do, instead of you telling her to make you pancakes, and watch cartoons.’

‘We didn’t even get to watch cartoons!’ They hadn’t touched the pancakes either, except for Owen who gladly helped himself, she wasn’t about to interject. Somehow, Claire knew it would likely make the situation worse. 

Owen got up from his chair, instigating the three person line towards the door. Claire followed after Bear, admiring the small march he kept up in footed pyjamas. She never quite clicked with her nephews. Was always too busy to work on the quality time Karen insisted was important. Although she loved them, they _were_ family after all, they were a chore. Christmas visits, if they happened, were spent watching the clock, or tapping on her phone. Claire never took a second to _watch_ her nephew’s closely. 

At the door, Claire hesitated. ‘I, ah, you … you drove me here …’ 

*

Claire was surprised when her phone buzzed almost two hours after Owen and Bear had dropped her at her car. They parted warmly, Owen squeezing her hand out of Bear’s line of sight, the little boy in the backseat jabbering on about showing Claire his dinosaur collection, and listing the titles of books he loved to read. 

She let the washing machine whir to life before she checked her phone, message waiting for her patiently. There was no doubt that it was Owen. Claire had begun associating a warm giddy feeling in her chest with the man. She was grinning before she had unlocked her phone to open the message. 

The curly blond haired little boy grinned back at Claire from her phone screen. Owen had sent a picture, his son standing in front of the camera lens, proudly holding up a scribbled on picture. _‘You’re queen of the tigers now’,_ Owen had captioned, indicating the picture Bear had drawn. It was sketchy, caught on a child’s shaky hand and uncertain imagination. But it was clear; Owen and his lions, Bear and the bears … and Claire placed promptly with the tigers. 

She rolled her eyes. Evidently the boy had picked up on his father’s nickname for her.

* 

They met on mutual ground. A quiet little coffee shop neither of them had been to. It was supposed to be a quick date in the middle of her busy schedule. Each of them meeting the other half way between his job and hers. The light hour lunch break seemed like anything but when she caught sight of Owen, his face drawn in deep consideration. 

‘Hey,’ Claire greeted, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she joined him at the small table. ‘Is everything all right? You seem troubled.’ 

‘You have to understand, my kid has never - _never_ \- had a mother. For him, for me - that’s a big deal.’ Claire blinked, she knew to expect this conversation. In fact, Claire had been counting down each and every interaction she had before this moment. Owen was overprotective, something she’d know about him from the second he first opened his mouth. It was only a matter of time. ‘I don’t want it to scare you away,’ 

She couldn’t help the slight chuckle, his words echoing past her lips. _Bear wasn’t scaring her away._

‘I watched you command the entire staff at the zoo, never once did you so much as bat an eyelash. The banquet? You were on fire! I’ve never witnessed someone take control of a situation with such calm. But, when Bear addresses you, your hands shake.’ She couldn’t argue. His son set alarm bells screaming in her head. She was _terrified_ of Bear. That didn’t mean he was scaring her away. Owen managed to match her wit for wit, he understood every stitch of her fabric without being told every tall tale. She wasn’t giving that up because he had a little boy. She wasn’t going to give up on Bear. Although the commitment terrified her, she was willing to be who the child needed, no question, no doubt. 

Claire slid her hand across the table, seeking out his long fingers as she sipped on her coffee with the other. ‘He never knew Mary,’ Owen started, ‘Hell, she was gone by the time I landed at base. Bear didn’t even have a name before she left. He didn’t know her, he _doesn’t_ know her. I can do as much as I’m capable for my son, it won’t change the fact that he’s missing _the_ most important emotional bond of his life.’ Claire squeezed Owen’s hand tightly. She had a million questions, a million thoughts, a million reasons to get up and run out of that cafe. Instead, she sat quietly, she listened to the information he was willing to give her. ‘Bear _adores_ you.’ He whispered, green eyes fluttering towards the window. 

She wondered, momentarily, how blessed Owen was to have a son that mirrored him in almost every aspect of his outward appearance. She didn’t know the man or the boy from in and out, but she could have guessed there were interior matches as well. How many people were that lucky to not have to live with the reminder of those that had abandoned them. There was no looking back into the eyes of Mary who’d abandoned her young family for whatever reason she may have. 

‘I adore him,’ Claire admitted on a half smile, teeth biting down on her bottom lip. Bear Grady was adorable, there was no doubt about it. He’d held her captive the minute his curly blonde head, and gap toothed smile said _hello_.

‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’ The emotional attachment, not only on Bear’s behalf, but Claire’s too. They needed to build a relationship off the back of their own interactions, not what she thought of his son, or what his son thought of her. They needed to click; Owen and Claire. It was only an added bonus that Bear liked her. He needed to know, too, that she could stick around for a lot longer than most people were willing to admit. 

He was falling for her too deep and too hard. It was already impossible to think about days where he wouldn’t hear from her, months of silence before it withered into years of no contact. He needed Claire like he needed air. Unfortunately, he knew she didn’t need him as much. 

‘No more Bear, then.’ Claire offered, ‘You and I. We do whatever we can. We work on us. And you _introduce_ me to your son when you think I’m ready to meet him.’ 

It was never going to be as easy as that. 

* 

‘Tell me about him,’ She asked in the dark of her apartment, hand drawing lazy circles across his scalp. Owen tightened his hold on her waist, pulling Claire in closer before he hummed against her chest. ‘I want to know about baby Bear.’ They’d gone weeks without her seeing his son. In person, at least. Owen couldn’t help sending her ridiculous pictures throughout the day, including Claire in their activities. She lived for those messages, for Bear’s energetic little smile or his sleepy face. She didn’t mind the ones of Owen, mid eye roll, as he was _forced_ to watch _Star Wars Episode IV_ for the tenth time that week.  

‘He was perfect,’ Owen’s voice was a low grumble still caught in the realms of sleep. One end tied to the living while the other dreamed. He was allowed to fall asleep there, in her bed, his son at home mindfully watched by his sister. ‘Honestly, _perfect._ And a little grumpy.’ Claire chuckled, his head bouncing under her hand at the simple image of an infant with a scowl. ‘He’s a grumpy little brat when he wants to be.’ It was an impossible thought in Claire’s head. The boy was all smiles, polite manners and affectionate hugs. ‘Started the minute his mother upped and left. Knew I couldn’t stay in the Navy if he was gonna keep making that face at me.

‘He was small. I thought too small, until a nurse walked me down to the NICU and told me to quit pestering her about his size.’ That earned him another chuckle from Claire, her chest shifting under his cheek as they lay in the dark, eyes closed, memory recounted and envisioned. ‘God, I had no idea what to do with him. He was in the hospital for three days, standard procedure, and then they sent us home. Having a kid is supposed to be this all defining moment. You’re supposed to be a _man_. I’d never felt more like a child. I was helpless. And taking instruction from my mother!’ Owen shifted, pulling away from the hand in his hair, and her body close to his. 

‘He would sleep on my chest … here,’ Owen tapped the top of Claire’s sternum first, before tapping the bottom of it, just below her breasts. The length was tiny, too small to be considered human in Claire’s knowledge. ‘A week old,’ Owen told her, letting it sink in just how small the boy was. ‘You’re told that you’ll forget how little they really were. But not that, not that first two weeks where he was so small I thought he’d snap. I don’t remember much of his size from there to when he was old enough to stretch his arms over my sides and splay his legs in his sleep. I’ll never forget how small he was.’ 

She could swear that her skin was burning from where he had touched her, mind trying to fabricate a child so small, so light, so _precious_ sleeping on her chest. She couldn’t imagine having hopes and dreams for that child and his mother, or having them crushed so suddenly. She always misunderstood Karen’s eager insistence that she settle down and have a family, create aspirations for children who wouldn’t be able to live up to them for fifteen years. Claire couldn’t imagine doing that with someone she could possibly _love_ let alone doing it without them. ‘He’s lucky to have you,’ Claire kissed his forehead, sinking back into his embrace. 

‘I’m lucky to have him.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, here's Part Three. 
> 
> The response I have gotten from this fic so far is fantastic. Honestly, it makes me stupid smile all day. Thank you to everyone whose taking the time to read, kudos, comment, reblog, like, and sending me private messages. Every single action equals to something in my delighted little writer mind. 
> 
> I really love it. It helps me write faster, and motivates me to kill you all even more with Bear Grady cute.

The park roared, as a ball flew towards the far reaches of the stadium. 

‘Maybe Claire would like to come with us next time?’ Bear Grady asked, the suggestion innocent on his tongue as he watched the batter take a home run.

Owen shrugged, he couldn’t imagine seeing her sitting in the stands with them, eating stadium hot dogs and calling out to the players. He was trying to integrate her into their daily lives. After three months, he wanted to plan events that Bear could be involved in as well. ‘I don’t think Claire would like baseball all that much.’ She had, however, thoroughly enjoyed the hike the boys took her on, two weeks prior. 

Claire Dearing was full of surprises. 

‘Do you think she likes Star Wars?’ Owen rolled his eyes, Claire didn’t have a choice. Either she liked it, or Bear would eventually make her like it. The boy was crazy about the franchise, a phase Owen was dying for him to outgrow … or at least tame out the rough edges. He gave his son the same typical reply in regards to Claire’s tastes: 

‘We’ll just have to ask her’. Bear nodded, eyes on the game, murmuring agreement with his father. ‘Bear?’ The boy _mm-hm_ ’d. ‘Do you like Claire?’ Bear nodded, enthusiastically, twizzler hanging from his mouth. Bear asked the question back, echoing his father’s silent concern. 

Without waiting a beat, the young boy reached out and put his hand on his father’s arm. ‘’Cause you’re allowed to like her, Daddy. I don’t mind.’ Bear’s small smile grew, climbing up his face as an idea hit him. Before his father could responded, heart warmed with his young son’s reaction, Bear was speaking again, ‘Can she come camping with us?!’ 

Owen grinned, he had certainly wanted to ask Claire. The long weekend was approaching them quickly, and just as Owen and Bear did on every given occasion, they went lake side. There was something simplistic in watching the weekend glide them by, an extra day long, filled with fishing and swimming, the occasional hike, and too many board games.

‘I’d like it if Claire came camping with us!’ Another ball went rushing past their heads, the team collecting a second home run. Bear’s attention was drawn as he jumped out of his seat, cheering with the others around him.

*

Claire half ran for her phone, the device ringing softly from her desk as she checked her messages with Zara. She caught it, on the edge of vibrating right off her desk. Her grin was instant from the second she saw the picture ID. Owen and Bear, grinning back at her, chocolate covering the little boy’s face, stubble across his father’s. ’Hey, Sailor, everything okay?’ Claire had promised to call, if only for ten minutes, to replace their cancelled lunch date. It worried her when he called first. She’d never forgotten, no matter how busy she was. 

Owen exhaled down the other end of the line, the noise somewhat distressed against her ears. ‘I have a huge favour to ask.’ Claire hummed lightly, committing without words, to whatever he had to ask … within reason. ‘Can you get Bear from school this afternoon?’ She flicked her wrist, checking the time quickly on her watch. It was just after two, Bear finished school at three, and she wasn’t supposed to leave until five. Claire bit her lip, she _was_ the boss. 

‘Are you sure you want me to do that?’ Her second concern. Although she and Bear had some solo interactions, Owen was never too far. He was an aisle over, cleaning out the lion enclosure, sleeping upstairs, or thudding somewhere down the hall. She hadn’t actually been alone with the little boy. That, and they were still trying to take things slowly. 

She could hear his shrug and heavy sigh, his hand scrubbing over his face. ‘You’re kinda my last option.’ 

‘I can get him,’ Claire confirmed, without hesitation. The little Zara-esque voice in the back of her head, reminded Claire that she had a meeting at three-thirty. A meeting she would likely be unable to reschedule at such short notice. She would have to drag Bear along. 

He was thanking her, gratitude seeping through the phone speaker. ‘I’ll message you through his school address. I should be home at five, I just - god, this vet takes his damn time.’ She knew then, what was wrong. Owen had pointed out to her only two days ago that one of the lion cubs was acting slow and uncharacteristic, they were monitoring her behaviour for any other alarming signs. Clearly, her condition was deteriorating. It would be good for him to not worry about Bear, which was likely an outcome with his son in her unattended care for the first time. 

‘I’ll get your boy, you look after your cub.’ 

*

‘Claire!’ Bear squealed when he caught sight of her by the school gate, waiting with the other mothers after the bell. He ran, throwing himself into her legs and squeezing tight. She would never get over how undeniably sweet he was, how loving and kind. That no matter, he was always excited to see her. It knocked the wind out of her every time. 

He took her hand when he stepped back, grinning up at Claire with his gap toothed smile, brand new scratch awning his chin. ‘What happened?!’ She practically dropped to her knees, crouched down in front of him, hand cupping his cheek, the other still holding tight to his little hand. ‘Are you okay? Who hurt you?’ The words flew out of her mouth, speeding across his face, as her thumb traced the cut across his bottom lip. It was slowly turning blue, blood red in a few places, where the wound had clearly weeped after being cleaned - at least, she hoped it had been cleaned. 

Bear shrugged, ‘Nurse Miller said I tried to eat the monkey bars’. The grin was unbearable, splitting his honey cheeks, deep blue eyes sparkling right in front of her face. There was a knot in her chest, wound tight at the sight of the boy injured. He was far too precious to be hurt in this world. She tried to vow that it would threaten to hurt him no longer, but Claire didn’t think she could make good on that promise. 

‘Is that what really happened? No one did this to you?’ She dared to touch her thumb to the cut, manicured nail sitting on his lip. It was still weeping, undoubtably too deep, likely to scar. Bear shook his head, promising in his eager little boy voice, that it was kinda like he tried to eat the monkey bars. He did it himself, no one else involved. Claire frowned, pout pulling at her bottom lip. She _really_ didn’t like seeing him injured. And Owen, how on earth was Owen going to react? 

‘Where’s Dad?’ Bear asked as if on cue with her thoughts, trying to Bear over Claire’s shoulders and past the legs of other parents. 

Claire smiled, squeezing his cheek lightly as she retracted her hands. ‘Your father has to watch over something at the zoo this afternoon. You’re stuck with me. Is that okay?’ Bear took her hand again, nodding by her side as Claire straightened to her full height. ‘I just have to pop into my office for a little bit to talk to some very important people and then we can do whatever you like. So, I need you to think about that for me, okay?’ 

Bear agreed, thinking aloud as they crossed the street to find Claire’s car. 

He settled easily into Masrani Global’s office building, mostly fascinated, with his little boy wonder, in the _magic_ of the place. The little boy, age six, had a father who worked in a zoo, office buildings were another world. Especially that belonging to the seventh richest man in the world. He wanted to touch everything, make faces at his reflection in every shiny surface, and say _hello_ to everyone. He held tight to Claire’s hand, staying right beside her hip, there was no doubt that here was there with her. 

‘And this,’ Claire started, opening the door to her office, ending their small tour of the top floor. ‘Is my office’. The boy stepped in, instantly making himself at home against the cold white furniture. He slipped behind her desk, climbing into the large chair. 

‘You don’t have any pictures!’ He looked up at her, small mouth open, lips downturned, a small sort of sadness shining in his eyes. 

Claire blinked. Of course that was odd to the boy, his father’s desk was covered in pictures of Bear, of Lorna and Mrs. Grady. Claire had nothing, not even an outdated picture of her nephews, or one of herself and Karen as young girls. She opened her mouth to explain, and closed it again quickly. What was there to say, how could she explain to a six-year-old that she didn’t have anyone like his father had him. 

‘Can I draw you one? … While I wait for you? I’ve got pencils in my bag!’ He grinned, same gap toothed wide smile, creases of his mouth almost reaching his ears as he shook the _Star Wars_ themed backpack on his shoudlers. Zara, standing behind her in the door way announced that she had paper, if the boy needed it. 

Claire crossed the room, her heels light on the carpeting. She crouched beside Bear, the boy in her chair, hands on his knees. ‘I’d love it.’ She told him softly, ‘Now, if you need anything. _Absolutely_ _anything_ , Iwant you to ask Zara. Okay?’ He nodded, smiling shyly as Claire’s assistant sat herself at the small lounge setting behind them, paper in her hands. ‘Now, I should be done at four-thirty, and then we’ll get some ice-cream before I take you home.’ Bear nodded, acknowledging what she had said for the fifth time. Easily, he slid off her chair, and into Claire’s arms, squeezing her tightly for a second before she dropped a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

Claire froze, she wasn’t thinking, she had acted on some loving impulse and now she couldn’t move. Bear didn’t react, only finished pulling out of his hug and carrying himself over to Zara. Hand covering her mouth, Claire tried to tell herself that it was no big deal, he didn’t react, he probably didn’t notice, he was six, he didn’t know the significance of the moment. Zara pulled Claire out of her near panic attack, reminding her sharply, that she was supposed to be down the hall in two minutes. 

*

If anything, Claire was worried that she would screw this whole trial up. Because, it was a trial. Owen wouldn’t have seen it like that, neither would Bear. Which was a good thing, because she didn’t exactly want to succeed for them. She needed to do it for herself. Sure, Owen would certainly be thankful if she got his son home from school on time and in one piece … he might even consider keeping her around. There was something inside of her that needed the reassurance that she could watch a child and do so without hitch. 

Their afternoon had been full of _hitches_. Bear’s newly forming scar, her kiss to his cheek, and their walking through the door at half past five. 

Maybe it was Karen, or loosing her mother at a young age. Above all else, it was a lack of interest. Claire Dearing did not want children, and until recently believed there wasn’t a single nurturing bone in her body. She’d admitted to herself, more than once, and across occasions that she would probably have children, _one day,_ for the sake of shutting her sister up. But, she never quite believed it. She still didn’t believe it, even when she was flirting with Owen Grady, well aware that he had a son. It was just flirting. Until, it wasn’t. Until, it was dinner, and then Claire waking up in his house, there because she’d fallen asleep after they’d stupidly had sex in his home … with his child down the hall. 

She liked Bear, hell, she could use the words _‘adore’_ and _‘love_ ’. It didn’t change her opinion. She and Owen were serious enough in his terms for dates involving his son. Ice cream, and the park, bike riding, swimming, and afternoon’s watching movies. She didn’t want to have children, but she couldn’t deny Bear what she was feeling. She couldn’t refuse his simple askance of a mother’s love … it hadn’t seemed too bad, so far. 

‘He’s not home.’ Bear pouted as he returned to the living room from checking the second floor. Claire joined him in his frown. 

‘Why don’t you go get out of your uniform, and I’ll give him a call?’ Bear raced up the stairs, dog following him slowly as Claire watched the space he vacated. She was at a loss, Owen was supposed to be home, she didn’t really expect to have to sit in his home and watch the boy. 

Owen picked up on the fifth ring, curse on his lips as he apologised for not calling her. ‘Sorry, things here are a bit hectic. It’s not looking good. Do you mind staying with Bear? He knows his routine. I just, I can’t leave, I don’t know when I’ll be home.’ He sounded grieved, quiet and empty. He was torn between being at home with his son, and staying by the side of his ill animal. Claire agreed quietly, promising all was well in the Grady household, there was no need for Owen to worry about them too. 

She was perusing Owen’s kitchen, opening and closing cupboard doors when Bear returned. ‘I’m hungry,’ He whimpered, hand scrubbing at his eye, pyjamas on backwards. Claire sighed, closing the pantry door. She was helpless with cooking, water burnt sooner than a meal appeared. She expressed as much to the young boy who only shrugged. 

‘I can help.’

‘Wouldn’t you prefer pizza? I can call in an order … we can go out and get something?’ She offered, panic rising in her throat. She really couldn’t cook. The last thing Claire wanted was to prove that to the young boy.

Bear shook his head, ‘Nah, I want pa’sghetti’. He didn’t hesitate in scaling the kitchen cabinets, pulling out ingredients and dropping them on the counter. 

‘From scratch?’ Claire squeaked, noticing the vegetables the boy was depositing in front of her. Owen didn’t seem like the kind of man who had the time or the patience to make spaghetti bolognese from scratch. Bear, evidently knew what he was doing. 

He paused beside her, large pot at his feet, ‘Can you fill this up?’ He waited for Claire to nod before he spoke again, sounding way too much like his father; ‘Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing’. 

The boy no longer surprised her. He knew exactly what he was doing, telling her what to add to the simmering sauce on the stove, and even insisting on the number of minutes it needed to cook. She listened to every word the six-year-old said, his word was final, if something went wrong it was on her. 

They at at the kitchen island quietly, Bear awning a bright green band-aid on his chin as he worked on his math homework while he ate, Claire guiding him on the tough questions. 

Inevitably, Claire found herself sitting on Owen’s couch, Bear sliding a DVD into the Xbox. He was pressing play on the controller before she could so much as protest at his choice. _Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope._ Bear grinned, the smile slow across his face, fighting with exhaustion that was slowly pulling at the lids of his eyes. She should have protested, sent him off to bed, and said goodnight. Claire wasn’t exactly in the position of denying the little boy anything. 

He didn’t sit, instead knelt, elbow propped up on the back of the couch. Claire remembered the year her father allowed herself and Karen to watch _Star Wars_ , they spent the summer watching the three films over and over, the little girls fighting over who would play Princess Leia in their make believe games. She’d only been four at the time, and fought her sister with every inch of strength she could muster. It wasalso the summer she tried to grow her hair long, screaming against her mothers insistence for a hair cut. That was a happy memory, that sat tucked away in the recesses of her mind, only glowing brightly when Bear displayed his very loud love. 

It’d been years, and yet, it felt like sitting in the living room of her old family home, the mid eighties holding her in a tight cocoon. Never would she have to grow up in the nights she sat up watching Star Wars with her father, long after her mother and sister had gone to bed. 

‘You gotta read the words.’ Bear’s little hands appeared on her shoulder, her voice in her ear as he leant against her side. Claire shook her head, dusting away the thoughts of her childhood to focus on the crawl in front of her. ‘ _“It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire …”_ ’. 

Once again the memory was warm and inviting, unfolding and refolding itself to allow Bear into the picture. Her father would have loved his spacey enthusiasm, and the knowledge that dripped from his tongue like a second language. 

‘That’s her daddy,’ Bear whispered, tucked under her arm, her hand stroking his hair as Princess Leia refused to release the location of the rebel base. 

Claire laughed, ‘You’re not supposed to tell people that’. 

‘Why not?’ 

She tapped the boy on his nose playfully, ‘Because it’s a surprise’. 

Bear frowned, ‘But, it’s an _old movie_. Older than my daddy,’ Not by much, Claire thought, ‘You can’t keep a surprise that long’. He sighed, the sound tired to Claire’s ears. ‘’Sides, everyone knows already!’ He settled back down beside her without complaint, neither of them adding to the argument. She could remember the shock horror she had felt as a little girl, finding out that Darth Vader was Luke’s father, and how betrayed she felt, just as a viewer. Her father had to console her for days afterwards, promising that Vader wasn’t really all that mean to his son, not because he wanted to be. 

She wondered briefly if Bear reacted the same. If he reacted at all, or if Owen couldn’t stand the temptation and told him anyway. 

‘My daddy loves you,’ Whispered from the young boy’s mouth so effortlessly Claire didn’t think about it, until she _heard_ what he said. The movie was forgotten, Princess Leia was saving herself, calling Han Solo ‘ _flyboy’_ and jumping into the garbage shoot. Claire’s heart rate slowed, whole body set in slow motion as every fibre of her being focusing on the words that had wound from the little boy’s mouth. He didn’t understand the enormity of the word, love as a child was just the same as like. She knew Owen liked her, enough that she was allowed around his son unsupervised. He didn’t love her, he couldn’t, not yet - they weren’t ready for that. _She_ wasn’t ready. ‘He’s just scared that we’ll get hurt. ‘Cause it’s been a long time since he loved someone but me’. 

Claire sighed, her hand skating through Bear’s curly hair, tracing the locks from his scalp to their ends. ‘I won’t hurt you,’ She whispered back, the secret for his ears only. He would repeat it to his father, she knew, confidence in his voice as he promised that _Claire said we won’t get hurt_. She had to love him for his innocent conviction. ‘I promise, Bear, I’m going to try my best.’ 

‘I like you, Claire.’ He mumbled, half asleep against her chest, little eyelids fluttering in an attempt to stay awake. 

She couldn’t help the kiss she dropped to his temple, pulling the hair back from his face, as she whispered; ‘I like you too, Bear’. 

* 

She tucked him in easily when the movie finished, the boy dragging his feet upstairs and falling into bed. He’d mentioned earlier, an eight o’clock bedtime. His head didn’t hit the pillow until nine. He was snoring instantly, fast asleep and completely unawares that his father still wasn’t home. 

Passing Owen’s room, Claire stopped. She’d been in her work clothes all day, blouse and pencil skirt far too tight and constricting for nine at night. There was no telling what time Owen would come home to relieve her of her child minding duties, or even then what time she’d get home to shower and change. 

He wouldn’t mind if she did so at his place, would he?

She showered quickly, washing the day off her skin and scrubbing the make up from her face. Wrapped in a towel, Claire searched Owen’s draws looking for something she could slip on. She found an old flannel shirt tucked under his pyjamas, the only thing that was small enough to not slip off her shoulders, but still hung down low, past her hips. He didn’t own a pair of pants, or boxers that would comfortably sit on her hips without falling off every time she moved, Claire optioned not to find any. 

Instead of creeping down the stairs, where the house was already dark, save a light on for Owen when he got home, Claire settled on his bed, the book on his bedside table in her lap, throw blanket tucked across her body. Her phone buzzed with a message from Karen. Something in their sisterhood snapped when Claire left for college, neither woman quite the same after that. They communicated for the big things, phone calls on birthdays and Christmas. Karen tried to bring her sister back into the family fold once she found out she was pregnant with Zach. It was on and off until the boy was six months old, and then Claire retreated again. She went up for Christmas on occasion, and always sent her nephews something for their birthdays, even if the gift wasn’t quite catered to their tastes. But, she tried, as best as Claire was able. 

Her time with Owen had snapped something inside of her, making Claire reach for the branch Karen had extended years ago. They started off small, texting more than calling, but it was what they needed, conversation lasting a few minutes to a few hours when each was able. 

Claire dialled the number, instead of texting back. 

_‘Hey, what’s going on?’_ Karen asked as soon as she picked up, phone calls between the two were rare and still surprising. 

Claire shrugged, despite the fact that her sister couldn’t see her. ‘Nothing, just thought we were overdue to hear the other’s voice.’ 

_‘Why are you whispering?’_

She hadn’t realised she’d lowered her voice until Karen pointed it out, the action clearly subconscious as she flicked her eyes towards the stairs. ‘Bear’s asleep, I don’t want him to wake up with a fright.’ 

_‘Bear? What happened to that_ Owen _guy?’_ The last time they’d talked had been several months ago, Claire had let it slip that she was seeing Owen but failed to mention the little boy in an attempt to save the lecture from her sister. Karen didn’t need to know, not then, especially when she didn’t even know if she and Owen were going to be serious. They’d had a small series of early morning coffee dates, and lunch on occasion. He was trying to ease her into the idea of being with him _alone_ before she signed the contract, selling herself to him and Bear. 

Claire laughed, ‘Bear is Owen’s son’. 

Her sister’s high pitched ‘ _What?!’_ Set a cringe across Claire’s face, humour twisting in her gut. _‘Who are you and what have you done with my sister? Claire … I don’t … what?’_

‘His name is Bear and he’s six. Owen needed to stay back tonight, I’m watching him.’ 

‘ _How’s that going for you?’_ Karen asked good-naturedly, knowing her sister wasn’t all that well adept with small children. 

Claire sighed, the noise light and soft in her throat. ‘He’s wonderful. I was terrified at first, but this kid - he just, I don’t even know what to say, Karen. I think I love him a little bit.’ Her sister hummed, the sound almost disapproving as she warned the damages of attachment. ‘I know, I’m _being careful,’_ She told her sister, regressing the fact that she had kissed the boy on the cheek that day, and again one was placed to his temple. She knew better, but the impulse inside her chest said it was what she needed to do in those moments. Claire, too, failed to mention what Bear had told her; Owen loved her according to the boy.

She rambled to her sister, talking about nurturing instincts and how she was sure she had none. Claire used stories of Zach and Gray in their youth to prove it, paring them off with similar things that Bear had done and how she felt differently. Karen only listened, adding in her two cents here and there as her sister talked, the night drawing on them both as Claire curled up against Owen’s pillows. 

She was asleep before she could say goodnight to Karen. She’d already hung up, knowing the signs and hints of a sleepy Claire Dearing like the back of her hand. 

*

She stirred slightly when the bed dipped beside her, a hand on her hip and gentle lips on the back of her neck.‘I could get used to this,’ Owen purred in her ear, settling in beside her, already dressed for bed. Claire had slept through him coming home, his voice whispering up the stairs, looking for her before he put the dog out for the night. He checked on Bear before he found her, curled up in a ball on his bed, favourite shirt wrapped around her skin. 

‘Me in your clothes, or in your bed?’ She hummed, snuggling against his chest. In that moment the thought of work in the morning barely crossed her mind, nor the idea that she had nothing to wear in his house. She was content, his arms wrapped around her, his heart beating against her spine. 

Owen hummed, the sound almost a growl set low in his throat as he kissed her shoulder, ‘Both’. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you to all the lovely little humans out there who had something wonderful to say about Part Three. You made my day(s). Knowing that this story, that Bear, is being enjoyed, it makes it all worth while. 
> 
> We're getting to the point of this fic, where there is about one or two things left that I want to do. But, I am panicking to fill the space between them.

She stood in his kitchen, hands on the bench as two sets of green eyes begged for a response. ‘C’mon, I know you have the weekend off.’ Owen played, just as desperate as the little boy beside him for a _yes_. Claire hummed, bottom lip sucked between her teeth as she thought. 

‘It’s not like real camping,’ Bear announced, ‘We got a cabin!’ She’d heard Owen mention it, more than once in the passing few weeks, that he owned a cabin just outside the city and often frequented whenever he and Bear got the chance. Owen nudged the boy, he wasn’t supposed to tell her, it was going to be a pleasant surprise after she worked herself up to the idea of sleeping in a tent. She wondered when they were going to realise, that neither boy nor man could keep a secret. ’Please, Claire, please come with us!’ 

She _did_ have the weekend off. There was certainly nothing stopping her from going with them, but Claire wondered briefly if it was a weekend she should invade on. This was tradition, Owen and Bear every year, more than once, at their favourite camping ground. If things went sour there would be memory of her there too … she’d known both boys for seven months now, Owen progressively letting her closer and closer to his son. Maybe things weren’t going to go wrong, maybe this was her life now, long weekends with Owen and Bear. It didn’t prevent the icy fear that sometimes clouded her judgement. Undeniably this was it. 

The rest of her life, with Owen and Bear. 

‘C’mon,’ Bear whined, hanging off of the edge of the counter. ‘You build the best LEGOs, you gotta come!’ He moved from the counter, as Claire reached out to brush his unruly hair off his face. Once contact was made, he hung from her arm instead. 

‘I build from the instructions,’ Claire hummed, pulling the boy into her hip, hugging him tightly as she um’ed and ah’ed about the weekend. 

Bear shrugged, ‘You still do it better than Dad’. Owen looked mortified, hand to his chest in mock suffering, his heart falsely giving out as his son betrayed him. Claire only grinned, she couldn’t help being efficient with the booklets and blocks, in fact, LEGO had given her a sort of thrill. Childlike joy gnawed at her insides with every vehicle and structure built. Especially those pertaining to sets she actually recognised. They spent the previous weekend sprawled out on the floor, constructing the _Haunted Mansion_ from _Scooby Doo_ , a set Bear had been hoarding since Christmas. She couldn’t believe herself, building something out of small - and _painful_ \- blocks that had been a constant in her childhood. It baffled her a little, to sit beside the little boy who knew every figure by name and plenty of scary adventures to match. 

‘You know, you don’t have to come, I just thought it might be a nice idea.’ Owen shrugged, visually embarrassed at Claire’s hesitancy towards the weekend. She shook her head, smiling softly as she promised, to both boys, her hand on Bear’s forehead, that she would love to join them for the long weekend. 

* 

There was a heavy weight sitting on her chest, pleasant and warm. It lulled her, quietly, easing her into a thought before she could be completely terrified of it. _This was normal_. Long weekends away, out doing something recreational in the wilderness, along side another fifty or so people with the same idea. This was a family vacation. In the summer she used to go to camps, stay like side, or climb up into the mountains, hiding herself behind concrete and brick walls. She would learn, better educate herself with the world, and occasionally make a friend or two. On occasion her parents didn’t enrol her a chemistry camp, or social science studies. Karen didn’t go away to far away camps where all they did was braid hair, tell ghost stories and pretend boys weren’t gross enough to kiss. Instead, they took Claire and her sister on small summer vacations, enough to convince themselves that they could make it through the rest of the year without pulling each other’s hair out. 

They barely made the car trip. Camp always worked better. 

No matter their arguments, or their destinations. Summers with her family were _home._

That had to be the feeling. The warmth, the complete security as Owen’s car rolled down the highway, her hand in his on the centre console, Bear in the backseat, reading quietly. He piped up every few minutes, asking for the definition of a word, or how to pronounce it. Reading the letters aloud one by one, Claire was always the first to answer him. 

When the car got too quiet, the radio too much talk and not enough song, Claire would ask Bear to read for them. He read steadily, enunciating each syllable of every word. He was already a prolific reader, at six, but sometimes the words took a little longer to come out of his mouth. He read for a few pages before falling silent again, reading in his head, far easier than out loud. 

‘You know, Bear and I lived out here for a few months.’ Owen commented, squeezing Claire’s hand as their destination loomed ahead of them. ‘He wasn’t sleeping through the night properly, which was driving my mom and the neighbours half crazy. So, we came out here. The cabin was my dad’s, I used to spend my summers out on the lake with Travis and Lorna.’ She could see it, once they pulled into the park, passing large trees and green grass, the air denser, yet lighter. Shifting her focus, the whole place felt like _Owen._ ‘It was quiet out here, he was able to cry all night until he finally exhausted himself, it was pretty good, until we had to head back to reality.’ 

The story didn’t seem new to the boy who’d closed his book, sitting in the seat behind Owen where Claire could see him easily. Bear grinned, ‘You’re gonna love it, Claire!’ Early into their trip, in fact, at breakfast when Claire met them in the morning, Bear had already detailed the floor plan of his father’s cabin. She would walk in there and feel right at home. 

It was as he was running through bedrooms, explaining that his was on the second floor and too the back, beside the spare room, he had allocated to Claire. _‘Ah, buddy, Claire’s gonna sleep in my room, if that’s okay?_ ’ Owen had laughed nervously, eyes flicking towards Claire at his fridge, helping herself to the carton of orange juice. The boy had only tapped his forehead, muttering _of course_ before carrying on. 

Claire and sleepovers weren’t common. In fact, they’d happened twice. The night of their first day, and the night Claire babysat Bear - which hadn’t been her fault, either times, actually. Claire never intended to fall asleep. It was enough to still confuse the boy slightly. 

This would be the first time Claire spent three consecutive days with them. She never managed two without going home to sleep. That had been one of the ground rules, something Owen was slowly starting to pull back on, dipping his feet in to test the waters. 

Bear loved Claire. They all knew that. Owen also knew there were cogs turning in his son’s head, reinventing the way he saw the world and the situation in front of him. How that turned out was what had Owen worried. If anything, the boy proved that he was completely fine with Claire making a home out of their lives. The next step was making sure Claire was okay with the same thing. She’d crawled under their skin, Owen just didn’t know if it was permanent or temporary. 

Seconds after Owen switched off the ignition, car parked securely in front of his rather modest cabin, Bear was unbuckled, flying out of the car and eagerly pulling Claire’s door open. ‘Bear,’ Owen warned, ‘Chill out, we’ve got all weekend’. That didn’t stop the words spilling from the boys mouth, flying a mile a minute as he let Claire climb out of the car, his hand in hers. He was manic, zigzagging on the spot, undecided on which direction to pull her. There was the lake, and the park, and the hiking trail, and the visitors centre, and the spot where he had a run in with a _real-live-out-in-the-wild_ bear, and, and, and … 

Claire crouched down to his level, still holding his hand, while the other one circled his arm. ‘How about we take our bags inside?’ She offered calmly, catching his darting eyes. Owen had told her of Bear’s excitement towards the trip, had practically burst at the seams himself. She hadn’t see him this wild, itching so badly to show her every inch of a world she didn’t know. Bear had been so quiet in the car, lulled by the city disappearing around them, their landscape changing, that he almost forgot to repeat everything he’d already told her. He calmed, taking a deep breath and focusing on her. ‘Once we’re settled, you can give me the whole tour.’

‘Really?’ 

‘Oh yeah, I want you to give those park rangers a run for their money.’

*

Hiking was the first activity on Claire’s agenda. She woke them both, bright an early, dressed and rearing to go. Both boys grumbled at her. She had woken Bear first, the little boy dragging his feet behind her, rubbing his hand across his eyes. He only climbed into his father’s bed, taking over Claire’s previous spot, and snuggled against his father. She huffed, exclaiming fond disappointment in them both as Owen pulled the blankets over their heads and tried to tune out her voice. 

She only jumped on the bed like an over eager toddler - or, Bear on too much sugar. 

They were ungrateful hikers, Bear pouting at the wondrous sights before him at the top of one of the more mild heights. Claire tickled the side of his neck to get a laugh, thankful that the humour was still in him while the sun was still fighting to rise. 

Owen was quiet, which surprised her. He was an outdoors man, someone who preferred to be under the sun as daylight ticked past, marking in his memories camping - _real_ camping - fishing, surfing … hiking. He sulked in the early mornings, issuing her with the same pout Bear had offered. He was cuddly, which was unexpected, but also likely due to the early morning hour. It was cold out. Owen hated the cold. To fight off the chill on his sun kissed skin, he wrapped his arms around her waist, or pulled Claire into his side whenever she stopped. She didn’t mind the distraction, as the sky painted itself in tangerine and gold, his son’s blond hair set alight with the fire of it all.

Despite protests, Bear walked ahead of them, scouting out their next perch before the adults reached it. He too, led them back down the track minutes after the sun had risen enough for his liking. 

They didn’t stop. Their activities changed at intervals, headed by a different individual. Claire was sure her feet were aching to the point that they might spontaneously fall off. They were all starting to feel aches and bruises, scratches appearing on their arms and ankles, battles fought unknowingly against forest shrubbery. 

Bear had led them to a small quiet spot, away from the growing number of visitors in the area. She sat with him, on a small jetty, boots and socks peeled off beside them, toes teasing the water. Claire always had a book on her, it was a small habit she developed as a child, and even now, as a busy adult, she usually had a small paperback shoved between her wallet and her phone. With Bear, she started to carry things he could read, sorting his boredom needs before her own. 

She had stuffed the book he was reading in the car, the day before, into her backpack, prepared to stop, sit and read if ever the chance arose. Between the three of them, they kept too busy, only finding a moment now, to read about the Alden children and their adventures while Owen hung back, chatting humorously with a ranger. 

Claire didn’t notice him taking pictures of them from behind, Bear’s head leaning against her shoulder, Claire’s on top of his, as they read in the dying light beside the lake. 

*

When the sun finished the last of its descent Owen lit the fire. 

Claire sat curled up in a wide chair, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, snapping Hersey’s bars in her lap.‘Don’t eat all those marshmallows before we can toast ‘em,’ Owen warned Bear as he snapped twigs under his shoes, trying to find the perfect roasting stick. Bear grinned back at his father, mouth full of soft white sugar, hand in the bag of marshmallows. Owen laughed, warning his son a second time that there would be no s’mores if Bear ate their single bag of marshmallows. The boy pouted.

He climbed easily into the space beside Claire, little body leaning into hers as he watched her seperate Graham crackers and chocolate squares. ‘You’re organised,’ The boy commented pinching a square from the wrapper in her lap, Claire failing at swatting his hand away. 

‘That’s not a bad thing,’ Claire shrugged, pausing his task to watch his little face, alight with the building glow of the fire, the cabin’s lights bleeding out into Owen’s little yard. 

Bear scrunched his nose, ‘No, it’s not bad’. He shrugged, wrapping his arms around one of hers and snuggling in close. He was the sleepy kind of affectionate, the hour ticking past his bedtime, his wide eyes eagerly anticipating the local fireworks. ‘You’re like a mom … you could be my mom,’ He told her quietly, forehead pressed to Claire’s shoulder, arms wrapped around her tightly. 

She caught Owen dropping his task, eyes darting towards his son as he straightened his back, sticks in his hand. He hadn’t heard much, but the alarm was enough. Her heart was in her throat, body tense as she sat half frightened, child curled around her arm. 

‘Your heart is beating really fast,’ Bear commented, little hands wrapped around her wrist, pulse pounding under his fingertips. Even though he shot her out into the universe, Bear brought her back to Earth. Claire laughed, the first breath she took in minutes as she used her spare hand to flatten out his curly hair. 

She kissed the top of his head, and wrapped her arm around him. ‘You _scare_ me,’ She whispered honestly, eyes still on Owen as she spoke into the boy’s hair. 

She felt his face frown, ‘Why?’ 

‘I promised I wouldn’t hurt you’. She whispered, heart still pounding in her throat, eyes unable to settle on Owen. Bear asked quietly, his face tilted up towards her, of she was going to hurt him. ‘No, baby, you’re safe.’ The term of endearment fell off her tongue without a single thought. Bear climbed into her lap, cuddling against her like he was a toddler instead of a six-year old. She let him, arms wrapped around his waist as she squeezed him tight. 

Owen winked at her from a few steps away before he joined them, ruffling Bear’s hair and kissing the top of Claire’s head. In that second, the first round of fireworks whizzed off into the sky before exploding with a loud bang. Bear sat up, eyes intent on the multi coloured night sky, as Claire wrapped her blanket around them both. 

This was what they had waited all day for. Owen promised a grumpy little boy in the morning, and a possible sleep in. She couldn’t seem to care how disgruntled he was at that slightly moody fact. Watching’s Bear’s face as it lit up in awe as the sky exploded in reds and greens, blues and silvers - she could happily submerge herself in the memory. This alone could keep her warm, even if they had to deal with a slight temper in the morning. 

*

‘God,’ Claire groaned, scrubbing her hands over her face. Indecision pooled in hr gut, making the woman feel sick. She was at war with herself, too scared to commit. But, it was done, she had been weaved through the folds of the Grady boys’ lives. ‘I don’t want to screw this up,’ Owen laughed, watching as Claire fretted in the middle of the bed. 

‘From what I’ve seen, you’re doing a marvellous job,’ He offered easily, standing at the end of the bed, towel wrapped around his waist. 

Claire sat up, ‘I just can’t help thinking that something is going to go terribly wrong. That, if I commit to that little boy, it’ll fall apart in days.’ 

‘Are you going to let it fall apart?’ He asked, kneeling on the bed. 

She shook her head, watching him incredulously, ‘No!’ 

Owen grinned, ‘Everything will work out’. 

‘What makes you so confident?’ 

‘We’re gardeners.’ She crinkled her nose, confused. ‘We’re both gardeners trying to tend to this relationship; trying to keep it alive.’ 

Claire shook her head, pushing at his shoulder softly, ‘No, that doesn’t work. Where’s the garden, we’ve got nothing here to keep alive’. Owen smirked, the smile growing across his features as he nodded his head to the doorway. Without needing further explanation, Claire knew what he meant. 

They had each other, although she had interpreted the metaphor how she saw fit, Owen knew they had something to tend to, to each other, but their bold personalities threatened to push them apart. Bear was it, the precious thing they needed to keep alive, the one thing that would drag them back to Earth each time their alpha personalities tried to lift them off the ground.

‘He already sees you as the maternal figure in his life, he sees it. He can’t say it because he knows how high strung the both of us are concerning him. That’s proof enough Claire, you care about him enough to not want to hurt him, to find yourself picking up and leaving in a few years’. He was being generous, thinking she wouldn’t leave him next week if the opportunity arrived. 

‘I don’t want to see him hurt,’ She whispered, exhaling on a heavy breath like she’d been withholding century old secrets. ‘But, Owen, I’m not made to be a mother. It was the last thing I saw myself being.’ She was conflicted, worried that everything would turn on its axis and that she would be the cause of Bear’s heartache. She didn’t see herself having children, Owen knew that, they talked about it more than once. He also knew, to Claire, Bear was the exception.

‘It’s simple; do you love him?’

‘God,’ Claire exhaled again, eyes fluttering away from Owen’s face before she brought them back. ‘I love the both of you’. He kissed her before she could take a breath, it was slow, loving, and filled with determination as his teeth clashed against hers. Owen’s hand found the side of her face, cupping it lovingly as he lowered them down on the bed, her giggles pushing past his lips. 

She was still nervous that they wouldn’t last, but not enough to withhold an admission of love for himself or his son. Although she was scared, and he was too, they had to take joy whenever they found it. Owen had no doubt that Claire was there to stay and he was happy to prove it to her. 

* 

Bear was slow in packing up his things. He dragged his feet throughout the cabin relentless to leave so soon. Claire distracted him, sitting down with a box of LEGO the boy had packed, but not built. While he sat on the living room floor, focusing on the instructions Claire and Owen ran around behind his back, shoving the bits and pieces the boy had brought with him for the long weekend back into his backpack. 

‘C’mon, bug, time to go,’ Claire announced, slipping down onto the rug beside the boy. Bear frowned, the scar on his chin deepening the crease as he pleaded to stay a little longer. ‘Your dad and I really want to beat the traffic,’ She smiled at him, pushing a strand of his hair behind his ear. It was already mid afternoon, Bear had stalled them enough, insisting that they needed to finish one final hike on a trail he swore he’d never been on, and a single lap around the lake - just so he could remember it for next time. They almost stopped to count rocks until Owen caught on to the boy’s procrastination. 

Bear’s bottom lip wobbled, ’I don’t want to go home.’ Claire ran her finger along his scar, trying to smooth the lines there. She half mirrored the frown on his face, wondering how many more childhood scars were going to mar the innocence of his supple skin. _Thousands_ , she could have guessed, knowing he’d already added a few more this weekend alone. He wasn’t accident prone, that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of walking into everything that would scratch his legs and draw blood from his arms. 

‘Don’t you miss Beau, and that ship in your room?’ She got it wrong on purpose, knowing the simple suggestion would spark excitement. _The Millennium Falcon_. It didn’t ignite the boy, his pout only grew, bottom lip wobbling as he shook his head. Whatever was weighing him down was far more important than his love of _Star Wars._

‘But, you’re going to go home.’ It took his words for it to dawn on her, realisation hitting home with truth from his lips. He didn’t want to let her go, not to her apartment in the middle of the city, no when, all weekend, she’d been just down the hall. 

Claire could see the tears in his eyes, her thumb swiping them away just before they fell. Her heart ached, chest gripped tight as she watched his little face crumble. She never wanted to be the cause of that look, and there she was, right in the middle of it, although for a slightly positive reason, rather than a negative. ‘I’ll tell you what - I’ll stay tonight, until you fall asleep, and then I _have_ to go home.’ 

There had always been a hesitancy towards going home. She’d felt it herself a small girl, and once again as an adult, knowing that her apartment was cold and empty in comparison to Owen’s wild and warm home. She had a job to go to in the morning, and still no spare clothes in Owen’s closet. She wouldn’t move anything into his space until he asked, which, frankly was a step too far for comfort, just now. 

Bear nodded softly, his cheek pressed to the palm of her hand. ‘You promise?’ He asked quietly, green eyes studying her face. 

‘I promise.’ He tapped his nose, ‘That is, unless your father is sick of me’. 

The boy giggled, shaking his head, blond curls bouncing around his face. ‘No, Daddy loves you!’ 

‘Are we sharing secrets again?’ Owen asked from the doorway, wide grin on his face as he laughed at the sight before him. Claire could practically see his heart surge in his chest, swelling with pride and admiration, his thoughts stuck on how lucky he had to be to have the both of them. 

Claire picked them up off the floor, righting Bear and helping him to scoop up his LEGO. The cabin was closed, waiting for their departure, dust cloths thrown over the furniture. Bear raced out, finally ready to leave, while Claire lingered, her hand on the living room door frame. 

Her eyes traced over the pictures of Owen as a boy, dated family photographs covering the walls. The pictures of Bear stood out to her the most, there were more of him than anyone else, reminding the quite little cabin that he had a home there, that this place had been his home and refuge when his mother left. Claire loved the homeliness of family pictures on the walls, she always lingered a second longer in Owen’s home, admiring the pictures of the little boy, frozen in his toddler years, up to mischief and caught on camera. 

There was no need for pictures on her apartment walls. She didn’t have any. Maybe that was where all the warmth had gone, left with every ounce of human connection she once owned. She wanted to paint the walls in pictures, friendly smiling faces, familiar, family. She wanted curly blond hair and green eyes, cocky grins and teasing smiles. She wanted Owen and Bear.

Claire knew, without a doubt, that she would come back to Owen’s cabin, joining them again. 

* 

Despite driving most of the day, Bear had tired them out. Or, maybe they had tired Bear out. Neither was sure which one, as the excitement of being home washed over them all. The sun had set and the boy was quiet, eyes drooping softly before snapping open, his tired mind trying to force himself awake. 

He was sprawled out on the floor beside Claire, head propped up on his hand, as they built LEGO on the living room floor, movie playing in the background. He was a goner the second he asked for the film, eyes already struggling to stay open, Owen and Claire amused him, the woman keeping her promise to stay until he fell asleep. Absentmindedly she was running the tips of her fingers in circles across his back, Bear insisting he could do the last of the LEGO set on his own. Unknowingly, she was lulling him towards the land of dreams. 

‘O-kay, bed time,’ Owen announced, voice quiet as he set a glass of wine down beside Claire and surveyed his son. Six years - Owen knew what a tired kid looked like. Bear started to protest, like his eyes weren’t just closed, his head dropping on his unsteady hand. His own body was betraying him. He grumbled at his father, picking his heavy body up off the floor before crumbling against Claire unceremoniously. 

‘I don’t want you to go,’ He whined, voice low, as she played with his hair, holding the long bangs off his face as she tried to watch his sleepy green eyes. There was no winning in this situation, he was exhausted and suddenly emotional now that their family weekend had returned to normal. 

Claire shushed him quietly, wondering if she could lull him into a full sleep, his head against her chest, the rest of his body in her lap. He was too heavy for her to carry, but if he fell asleep, Owen was there to take him off to bed. She already knew he’d been spoilt in that respect, as an infant, being allowed to fall asleep in his fathers arms or against him whenever he so pleased. She wondered briefly if he would seek comfort the same now as he had done then, his attachment shifting from his father to her - his _maybe_ mother. She couldn’t say the words, and had vowed to Owen, that they would not drift from an adult mouth until the boy had reached that conclusion verbally, himself. 

Where he’d been a sleepy ball of child seconds earlier, his eyes refused to shut now, blinking up at her expectantly. She wondered, if only briefly if that was exactly how he looked at his father when his eyes were brand new, his body small enough to fit against her arm, his world only as big as the hospital nursery. 

She kissed the top of his head, hair ticking her cheeks as Claire spoke, ‘Why don’t you come see me at lunch? … If your dad has time.’ She looked to Owen, knowing she should have sought out his permission before lifting the boy’s hopes. Bear turned his grin eyes to his father, body relaxing a little further as Owen nodded. 

‘We can get some pictures printed for her office,’ Owen suggested, knowing that would pique the boy’s interest. ‘I got some good ones,’ Owen promised, grinned at Claire who suddenly knew what they were up to. They’d spent a good portion of the weekend taking pictures, likely far more than what she actually saw happening. Bear had stressed to his father, face knotted with worry, that Claire had no pictures in her office, or on her desk. That, suddenly, thanks to a weekend, was about to change. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning for next week from the 22rd to the 29th, I will be participating in NYC Midnight’s Short Story Challenge. I don’t know what I’m going to be given, and am unable to gage if it’ll take me the full week, or a few days to get a piece done.
> 
> That leaves updates in the air. I will try to work on what I can, please be patient with me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you to everyone for their support. I love it. I honestly do. Your comments and messages make writing this fic worth it. It makes me so happy to hear that you're all enjoying Bear so much.
> 
> I can't believe we're sitting at 24k words at five parts. We're not done yet, but looking back to when I started this fic I thought it would be one part and 10k. Boy, was I wrong!

She tapped her foot against the metal flooring of the elevator. Impatience bubbled up her spine, making her fingers itch. Her nails tapped against the screen of her phone, body bouncing with the force of her foot. The ride was long and silent, Claire the only body in the elevator as the tension in her chest built. 

When the doors finally dinged open, sliding to reveal the building’s lobby, her eyes were on the door and the street alive behind it. Zara stood at receptionist’s desk, chatting with the woman behind the counter, before her eyes caught Claire and followed her. ‘Where are you going?’ She only waved her assistant off, rushing for the door. ‘What am I going to tell the board?’ This wasn’t like her boss at all, leaving in the middle of the day before a big meeting, they had delegates flying in from across the world. She wouldn’t drop this for anything, it had to be important. 

Claire’s eyes were red, brimmed with tears as she forced a polite smile. ‘ _My son_ is in the hospital, the board can live without me - he _can’t_.’ 

‘Bear?’ Zara was just as surprised. Bear had visited Masrani Global on more than one occasion. He always stopped to say hello, and to ask about her day, before rushing into Claire’s office, bag of jellybeans in his pocket. ‘What happened?’ Claire was out the door before she could answer. 

Claire Dearing spent her career relying on an inability to be intimidated or nervous. She always stood with a straight back, and commanded the room with authority. She was fluent in two languages, often translating herself in the middle of a speech. There was no fear, no hesitancy, she was the queen, the office her kingdom. 

She didn’t expect her phone to buzz at all, but kept it on her regardless. Owen was the only one who sent her messages worth checking immediately. They’d fought, the week before, tearing each other apart in her apartment, thankful that Bear wasn’t around. There had been radio silence from Owen’s end of the world … not that she tried to contact him. They needed to cool off before stepping in front of one another again. 

That was why the message surprised her and ultimately shook her to the core. _Bear’s in the E.R.._ That was it. Nothing else, no defining details that hinted to the boy’s health, no promise that he was okay, that it was a minor injury. She dialled Owen’s number the second she read the text, hoping he’d pick up. He didn’t. It could only be bad. 

He wouldn’t have contacted her if it was something minor. She half imagined seeing the little boy in another week or two, brand new scar down his arm, excitedly telling her about the injury and his trip to the E.R. god forbid, the boy was always hurt. The news that he was hurt once again, shouldn’t have stopped her heart. 

It was only once she was stepping out of the cab, foot on the pavement outside the hospital, that Claire had realised she’d called Bear her son. It was panic, and desperation to get to him that pulled the words out of her mouth. Claire dropped back to the seat she was vacating, heavy weight in her chest. How was she going to explain that to Zara? To the whole foyer of people who heard her? She shook her head, climbing out of the cab quickly and racing indoors. 

Her heart was beating erratically against her ribs, so much so Claire panicked that it might just beat right out of chest. She was trembling, eyes unfocused as she scanned the emergency room, looking out for the blond haired little boy and his adonis of a father. Nothing. They weren’t there, not a trace of them on first, unattended, glance. 

She rushed the triage nurse, begging for information on Bear Grady. The boy’s condition was for family knowledge only. The nurse refused to offer anything. Claire blinked at the woman, her heart still racing, panic pumping through her blood stream as her mind conjured up every worst case scenario for the boy’s health. The words stuttered out of her mouth without thinking about it. She’d already insinuated it once today, why not try again. Claire was frantic, her voice slightly raised as she insisted, ‘I’m his mother, let me see my son!’ The nurse blanched, apologising dryly as she buzzed Claire through. 

‘Bear, your mother is here,’ The nurse announced, peeping behind a curtain. Claire could see Owen sitting there, his shoulders tense with the warning. The second the nurse stepped away and Claire filled her place Owen relaxed, an easy, thankful smile filling his face. 

Bear was seated in the middle of a hospital gurney, little face crinkled in confusion before the frown evened out across his face. He bounced happily, calling out her name like he hadn’t seen her in an age, one arm outstretched for her. His other arm, sat unmoving on a pillow, highlighting the issue to Claire almost immediately. 

She squeezed him into a tight hug as she sat on the edge of his bed. Claire rained kisses across his face, fussing about his health and _‘Don’t you dare scare me like that again,’_ Which was mostly reserved for Owen and his singular text. The boy rested his weight into her side, leaning against her heavily. Claire didn’t care that there were likely rules about her sitting on his bed, and pulling him half into her lap. He was injured, and although his face was all smiles, she knew she had a duty to comfort him. 

‘What happened?’ Claire asked, brushing the boy’s hair away from his face, clicking her tongue with a reminder that he needed to get it cut. 

Bear sighed, his head buried against Claire shirt as he shrugged softly. ‘I fell off the monkey bars.’ 

‘He broke his arm.’ Owen supplied, watching as Claire grimaced and tugged the boy into a tighter hug. ‘They want to put in in a splint for a few days before casting it.’ Bear grumbled, hiding against Claire, a hand tucked into her shirt. 

The nurse was due back any moment, or so Owen vocalised, his foot jumping against the linoleum. He just wanted to take the boy home, and charge his phone. He flashed the device at Claire when she raised an eyebrow. It was dead. The action was quickly followed by an apology. It died before he could text her any further details, and reassure her the boy was not dead. He felt guilty enough for the basic message, not taking into consideration that her first thought would be one of worry. He also knew, with his phone on 2% battery, that she would want to know what was going on. That Bear was injured. Claire arrived thirty minutes after his text. He was right. 

Once the splint was on, the boy given a warning to _rest_ his arm, Owen took them home. 

They situated Bear on the sofa, pillow holding his arm steady as Owen called in a pizza order, and Claire fetched them some water. Owen stopped her before she returned to the living room, hands on her hips, kiss pressed lovingly to her cheek. ‘I’m sorry for what I said,’ He whispered against her skin, holding her tight. 

She had almost forgotten, in a slightly wounded afternoon, that they hadn’t spoken for a week. She was mad with him, he frustrated with her. It was ridiculous really, the words serious and harmful, the cause nothing more than a stressful day at work. 

Claire shrugged, ‘We’re good. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.’ It was a promise, if Owen had ever heard one. ‘Hearing that he was hurt kind of … I don’t know. Made it real?’ Claire Dearing was never lost for words. She searched his face, her hand flat to his shoulder. ‘I don’t want to know a life without Bear, without you. The reality of it, no matter how fleeting, was terrifying enough.’ Owen kissed her forehead, smile growing across her cheeks. 

She didn’t want to leave. Not now, not ever. No one was going to pull her away from them now. It was permanent without the papers. 

‘Right now, I just want to curl up with that boy and watch a movie.’ Claire pulled away, listening to Owen hum as Bear called out for them, practically begging to be let off the couch. Their unison _stay put_ only made him grumble. 

Claire curled up with him easily, the boy finding his place in her lap, mindful of his right arm as the movie started to play. It was something mindless, a children’s classical favourite, something Bear had watched countless times before. It provided the boy with comfort, and for the night, that was what he needed tucked up in Claire’s lap. 

* 

‘He looks so miserable,’ Claire sighed, arms crossed over her chest, coffee in her hand. Bear’s cast had been on a whole two days. He had another five and a half weeks to go. Claire was convinced they wouldn’t make it. The boy was happy to stick his arm out for his fathers lions, rather than wait for his cast to be removed. That, or he was going to saw his arm free. She wasn’t sure which option he would take, but Claire knew it would be one of them. 

‘He’s only making himself miserable,’ Owen shrugged. The boy had been with him all morning, complaining every ten seconds about how bored he was. He understood, he really did. Owen had his fair share of fractures in his life. He knew what it was like to be propped up on a table and told to _draw_ all afternoon, or to read a book. ‘He doesn’t want to do the boring jobs, he wants to do his normal jobs, which he can’t do. So, instead he’s sulking.’ 

Claire shook her head. Sulking didn’t get you anywhere, but she had a soft spot for the little boy and his pouty face. ‘How about I take him for the rest of the day, we’ll see you at home at five.’ 

He slid his hands into his pockets, shrugging. It would certainly make his life easier if he didn’t have to check over his shoulder every ten seconds. Bear had always been a gift, the perfect kid. Sure, he got adventurous, but he never wandered too far, or did anything too risky without his father’s undivided attention. Owen didn’t trust the boy with his cast and it made him paranoid. ‘Sounds perfect.’ 

Leaning in to kiss his cheek, Claire smiled, ‘Good’. Owen let her peck his cheek before he moved his head, catching her lips roughly. She smiled against his touch before pulling away, calling out to Bear and motioning him forward. ‘C’mon, baby, let’s get you some lunch, and find something to do.’ The boy’s face was hopeful at the idea of an activity, _anything_ away from his father whose answer had been _no_ to everythingthat morning. 

Claire kissed Owen once more, fleetingly, before she took Bear’s hand and led him out of his father’s zoo. ‘Can we get mac and cheese?’ Bear asked, following behind Claire, face hopeful at the prospect of food. They walked up the front drive, Claire’s heels clicking against the pavement as they instinctively dodged zoo guests. 

She reached out for him, hand on his head. ’You’re going to turn into mac and cheese,’ Claire warned. It was his favourite, and surprisingly one of the few things Claire could _actually_ cook. ‘Why don’t we go to that little cafe near the toy shop you like? We’ll get something to eat, and maybe we can find something to keep you entertained … for an hour.’ Bear was already listing LEGO packs as they stepped out of the zoo and moved towards Claire’s car, the boy a few steps ahead of her with the promise of a toy. 

* 

He didn’t know where the line dissolved. His place becoming hers, hers nonexistent. Claire couldn’t figure it out either. Didn’t really care too. She was happy, for the first time in what felt like forever, cheeks almost splitting with her continuous grin. She never thought she would feel like this ever again, like a house could be a home, the people in it warm, alive, exciting. She wouldn’t, couldn’t tire of Owen and Bear, her _adventure boys_. Claire wanted to curl up in the idea of them and live there forever. She had one better. She’d half moved in. 

It wasn’t offical by any means. It was gradual, leaving things at Owen’s place, starting with a spare change ofclothes and a toiletries bag. How it had metastasised beyond that, Claire wasn’t too certain. First it was clothes, then it was books, her phone charger had a permanent place plugged in beside his bed, her make-up sat neatly on a single shelf in the bathroom, her hair straightener too. Suddenly it wasn’t one change of clothes, it was two, three, all her favourite outfits, everything she couldn’t live without. If Owen noticed, he didn’t say anything. She didn’t know if she wanted him too. Or if she wanted to bring it up herself. 

Telling the man, earlier that day, that she would see him at _home_ had only broken the glass ceiling for Claire. And where she should have been frightened, she felt _fine_. It was normal, the feeling in her chest warm, the smile on her cheeks genuinely ecstatic. 

When Owen called out from the front door, ‘ _Honey, I’m home!’_ something tightened in her chest. _He_ was _home. She_ was _home._ She could hear the dog’s claws scratching across the floorboards as he went to greet his master, and coming back, paired with the sound of Owen’s heavy feet. He grinned at her, smile wide and contagious. He stopped to ruffle Bear’s hair before moving to press a kiss to her cheek. 

This was something she could get used to. 

‘How’d your afternoon go?’ He enquired, eyeing Bear trying to write with his left hand, tongue poking out between his teeth in concentration. 

Claire hummed pleasantly, ‘Your son ate his weight in mac and cheese,’ She clicked her tongue, half rolling her eyes as Bear beamed. She smiled slyly, ‘We bought LEGO’. 

Owen laughed, ‘You have an addiction,’ She shrugged. His hand on her hip squeezed her tightly, drawing her another inch closer.

‘And now,’ She concluded, ‘We are attempting school work’. _Attempting_ was the key word. Poor kid was struggling enough that the page looked more like the bumpy lines of abstract art rather than legible letters. Claire squeezed Owen’s arm, returning the question. 

Owen watched her, eyes pouring into hers for a moment, two, the smile creeping up his face with steady glee. ‘I went and got this cut,’ He slipped a hand into his pocket, pulling something out as he retracted, before opening his palm to show her. A key. ‘You don’t have one yet, and I thought, I don’t know, maybe you’d want one considering most of your stuff is here.’ He was trying to be nonchalant about it, but his hand was shaking. She’d been using Bear’s key for months, unofficially given to the emergency of an afternoon pick up. Even then, Bear’s _Darth Vader_ key remained in his school bag.

Bear watched them curiously, forehead crinkled as Claire thanked Owen and kissed him softly. Eagerly, she added the key to her keychain, while the boy started to frown. ‘What’s wrong, bug?’ She asked him, pausing to run her thumb over the crinkles on his forehead. 

‘I thought he was gonna ask you to live with us,’ Bear grumbled, lip between his teeth. Adults confused him. Where he had always thought things were simple, they always played out difficultly between his dad and Claire. He was disappointed that the woman was pretended with a key, just because, rather than being given one with the askance to move in. 

Claire looked to Owen over her shoulder, before she turned back to Bear, ‘Would you like me to live here?’ The boy nodded eagerly, his whole face igniting with excitement. ‘Well, so long as everyone is in agreement. Maybe, I can? But, not right away, Bear, in little bits.’ It was a promise to herself, to continue to take things slowly. Just because they were gaining up on their first year, didn’t mean everything would be smooth sailing. 

A few months, she told herself, to hold out until after Bear’s birthday, after Christmas. Most of her stuff was already there, there was no need to rush, but also, no need to put it off. 

*

She was nervous. Standing in Heather Grady’s kitchen while Owen’s siblings slowly arrived. It set Claire’s heart to an egg timer. This was it. His mother, his siblings, all congregated to watch her, study her, decide if she was good enough for their brother and nephew. 

Claire shook her head, she was being paranoid. It was Bear’s birthday. They were here for him, they likely didn’t care that she was there at all. Heather knew her, loved her, Lorna too. The only family members she hadn’t met were Travis and his wife Jane. 

Lorna welcomed her as she usually did, with a large smile and a warm hug, quickly enquiring into the state of her nephew. She posed those questions to Claire more than she did Owen with each passing visit. If anything, Claire knew she’d become something of a reliable source on Bear. She had a place, already, in Lorna’s eyes. A place that solidified her within the family. 

‘No Travis yet?’ Lorna asked, as Owen shifted past her, his hand sliding across Claire’s hip as he kissed her cheek and kept moving. Despite the question being phrased for Claire, they answered in unison ‘ _nope’._ ‘Aw look at you two - so gross.’ Claire fluttered a shy smile towards the woman. ‘You’re good for him, you know. I don’t think I’ve seen my brother this happy in, well, an age. And Bear loves you, which is saying something. That kid has incredible taste, I am his favourite aunt, after all.’ 

‘He only has two aunts,’ Owen added behind them, head buried in a cupboard, letting Claire and Lorna know that he’d heard every word. 

Lorna shrugged, ‘Just sayin’, he’s got a good eye - do you think he could help me out?’ Owen rolled his eyes at his sister’s attempts to use his son to land her a date. 

‘I wasn’t disagreeing,’ Owen joined them again, a second kiss pressed into Claire’s burning cheek. ‘Just making sure you know that he loves Janey too.’ Lorna shrugged, refusing to accept the statement, muttering something about how she’ll remember this for her future son or daughter.

She kept her distance when Travis and Jane finally arrived. Leaving them to greet family with their two-month-old twins. She tried to keep out of the way as Owen and Lorna fussed over the infants, and Travis fussed over Bear. 

It was Bear who dragged his uncle over, exclaiming excitedly that she was Claire. She shook the man’s hand happily, smiling at him brightly as Bear wrapped an arm around her leg. Travis had heard a lot about her, in fact he was certain that he could have pointed her out in a crowed before he even met her. His brother and nephew were in awe, singing her good praises when they called to check in on occasion. 

He thanked her quietly, for bringing such joy to his brother and Bear. It had been far too long since that had happened, in Travis’ opinion. They were happy, certainly, with Claire, they’d moved onto a higher plane, where they always deserved to be. It was the second time that afternoon that she’d been told by a Grady that she was good for Owen. Claire couldn’t help the blush that crept across her cheeks or the growing warmth in her chest that only reaffirmed she was making the right decisions. 

She was introduced, like an old, well loved, friend by Travis to his wife; Jane. He too pointed out his children Olivia and Michael Grady, two months old, complete loves of his life … next to his wife, of course. 

Claire gave the infants a wide berth, steering clear of them within reason. Bear did the same. She couldn’t quite tell if he was copying her reaction of if it was genuine as he eyed off the tiny bundles of new life curiously. They occupied a large reclining chair, Bear sitting on the arm of it, leaning into Claire, watching the infant in his Aunt Lorna’s arms intensely. 

Claire tried to wipe away the look on his face, as if it could be removed as easily as dirt. ‘Don’t scowl baby, they’re your cousins’. She told him quietly, pecking his cheek fondly as he tried to soften his expression. It didn’t work, the knot in his forehead tightened. 

Owen sitting at her feet, back against the chair, Claire’s legs beside his shoulder, called Lorna over. She crouched in front of them, allowing the boy to be up much higher than his cousin. ‘See, she’s not too bad,’ Claire encouraged, fingers gingerly pulling Olivia’s blanket off her face. Bear pulled back quickly, eyes wide as he looked to his father and then Claire, shaking his head with distaste, and returning his eyes to the book in his hand. 

‘So, Claire,’ Jane piped up, sitting only a foot away. She was a kind young woman, smart and caring, she seemed genuinely interested in Claire’s job when she enquired. She was starved for work, missing her job, six months into her maternity leave. ‘Are you and Owen going to have your own kids?’ 

She felt his body tense beside her leg, but couldn’t help the short, sharp laugh that escaped her as she shook her head just like Bear in detest to the comment. ’No, no, no way. Bear is plenty enough kid for me,’ She squeezed the boy, who smiled, leaning against her a little more. As soon as Owen told her that his brother and sister-in-law would be at Bear’s birthday dinner, she knew there would be questions about her own desire to have children. It was only natural, with infants in the room of a young family, and a relationship that kept on getting better. 

She thought about it. Only fleetingly, what it would be like to mother a child like Bear from the very beginning. She knew Owen wouldn’t mind another child. They had talked about it in his moonlit bedroom, dark of night guarding them, his fingertips creating patterns against her abdomen. His table was not yet full, someone was missing. She had been tempted then, listening to him talk, voice coated in sleep. She almost curled into him, lips on his neck, desire to have a child burning in her stomach. _Almost_. She shook away the idea. Her stance was solid. No kids. Bear was the greatest exception she had ever made in her life. But, he was likely to be the only one. 

Jane dropped the subject, retuning to level ground, talking about her law firm. Conversation flew freely across siblings and in-laws until Owen’s mother called out for him and Travis, needing their assistance in the kitchen. They were gone for a minute, when Jane got up, claiming that she could hear her phone ringing, ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ She asked Claire before waiting for her response, and promptly handing the baby over. She had asked if the woman was going to have children, not if she was any good with them. Claire panicked, maybe she should have said that. The room was empty when she looked up from the child, Lorna and Bear her only companions, the both of them helpless in helping her. Lorna’s arms were full, as she doted lovingly on her niece and Bear was sitting beside her, practically panting with anxiety. 

She had no other choice but to get comfortable with the baby in her arms, the small boy blinking up at her with inquisitive brown eyes. She stroked his face out of instinct, her thumb tracing the same patterns on his tiny face, that she followed on Bear. 

The boy beside her was tense, his breath heavy against her neck as he watched the baby. Claire was his. She could feel the territorial pull, it was dominant in Owen and dormant in Bear, until now. ‘It’s okay,’ She told both boys, Michael starting to squirm. She shushed the boy, as Bear slid from the arm of the chair, into the gap between Claire’s hip and the edge of the recliner. ‘He’s not so bad, Bear, don’t you think?’ Claire asked the boy, twisting her arm uncomfortably to make sure he was still supporting his cast. It was being removed tomorrow, but that didn’t mean he could be reckless with it. She stroked a hand through his hair before returning it to the baby, infants head closest to Bear. 

‘He’s soft,’ Bear whispered, a little finger stoking his cousin’s scalp. Claire hummed, watching as the baby’s eyes slowly drifted closed, the child once again comfortable. 

Owen chose that moment to walk back into the room. His son tucked in next to Claire, their heads bowed to watch the infant in her arms. His breath caught in his throat, an image caught in his head. He respected her stance on having kids, but the image of her holding _their_ newborn, Bear supportive and excited beside her. That was too good of a thought to give up, the image powerful enough to bring tears to his eyes. 

‘I’ve had enough,’ Bear announced as though the baby would magically be taken away, leaving him free of the nuisance and eligible for everyone’s attention once again. Owen laughed, making their heads shoot up to catch him. Claire smiled softly, knowing without a doubt what he was thinking as he approached them in a slow stride and free’d her from the baby. 

‘Don’t you like your cousins, Bear?’ Owen asked, already knowing the answer. When the boy popped a _nope_ , Owen asked why. 

Bear moved closer to Claire, his arms wrapped around hers, holding on tight. ‘Claire’s mine,’ He whispered, innocently. There were other words, different words, words he clearly couldn’t say - not yet. Words that haunted Claire and Owen, the both of them sitting on the brink waiting for Bear to come to a conclusion on his own. He was already there, they knew it, the words were just _stuck._

She brushed her hand over his hair, the length far shorter than what it had been a few weeks ago. While he was unable to run away from her with a broken arm, easily caught and easily bored, she sat him down, cut his hair. Owen insisted he was fearful of the barber, so they did it on the bathroom floor with a set of clippers and hairdressers scissors. For someone who’d never cut another person’s hair before, Claire was mildly proud. Owen was impressed once he got over his initial stage of humour after finding them in the bathroom, Claire’s legs locked around the boy to hold him down. 

Owen shrugged, ‘That’s the good thing about cousins, bud, they go home with uncle Travis and Auntie Jane at the end of the night. Claire and I, we’re all yours.’ He tapped his son on the knee, giving the boy a large, tooth-filled grin. ‘Now, c’mon, Nan’s got your cake ready!’

They entered the kitchen and dining space as a group of four, Claire, Owen, Michael and Bear. She couldn’t help but think how weird and yet natural it felt, to watch Owen tote around an infant in his arm like the child was nothing less than a football. His ease was remarkable, and startling all in one. 

Jane collected her son from Owen as they gathered around the dining table, Bear kneeling on a chair, Owen to his right, Claire to his left. They sang for him, the same old song they sang at every birthday since the beginning of time and likely to the end of it. Heather snapped pictures, Owen and Claire leaning in, kissing the boy each on the cheek as he too leant forward to blow out his candles. 

He took in every face before he squeezed his eyes shut, wish on his lips, caught in his head. He was young and wild, free of adult judgement. Something as simple as wishing on a birthday candle was real, he could feel it. Bear held tight to his wish, focusing all his energy on the simple thought begging with all his might and the biggest breath he could muster. 

He counted to three, listening to the silence of his grandmother’s home, the room building with anticipation before he pursed his lips and pushed out a forceful breath, expelling his wish upon the candle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourself for Part 6, I have plans to rock this happy little pea green boat, with intent to drown. 
> 
> Just a reminder that a few of you have sent in Bear headcanons which I then expanded on and they can be found on my blog in the 'lions tigers bears' tag. 
> 
> And now, I have to get back to my other writing responsibilities ... and crying over The X-Files. TTFN.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because some of you are impatient, here's part 6. Y'all have an extra long wait for Part 7 now ... enjoy. 
> 
> Also, Part 7 will be the final instalment of this fic. It's been a fun ride, I'll see you all at the finish line.

She had been too busy to notice. The holiday season swelled and compacted around them, disappearing far quicker than it had appeared. Karen bough the boys to visit, excitingly introducing Zach and Gray to Bear. The three hit it off immediately, running a muck up and down the stairs, making noise like little boys do, Bear finally liberated of his cast. They’d smoothed through the end of the year and started the next, Owen taking Claire out of a celebratory anniversary dinner. Wining and dining her, with barely an interruption from Bear. Of course, the boy had to take her out himself, optioning for a picnic in the park.

Claire lost count of the days and nights, caught up in school and work schedules all while trying to sell her inner city apartment. Things had been too hectic for her to keep track of everything, thus, some things slipped through the cracks. 

She washed her face, splashing cool water against her warm skin as she tried to ignore the small stick on the bathroom counter, and the internal clock in her head. The doorbell rang, pulling Claire into another distraction as she dried her face and moved for the stairs. The last thing she wanted to focus on was the pregnancy test on the counter. 

Halfway down the stairs she heard Owen answer the door, and then it click shut behind him. She continued to move anyway, hoping to fill her five minutes with anything other than the possibility that she was pregnant. Claire had a mantra playing in her head, _it’s just a stomach flu, it’s just a stomach flu, it’s just a stomach flu_ , she clung to the words hoping above all hell that she was right. She wasn’t the only ill body in the house, Bear had been on and off with something for weeks. She had what he had, whatever it was, or sympathy pains. She was _not_ pregnant. The test was just for peace of mind. Or so she hoped.

She found Bear, curled up on the floor, his head resting on Beau, the dog napping easily. She crouched down beside them, hand carting through Bear’s hair as she worried about the colour of his cheeks. He was sporting the early stages of a fever, whatever he’d been fighting for the last number of weeks, finally was catching up to him, preying on the boy as he watched cartoons. ‘Who was at the door, baby?’ Bear shrugged, she could hear Owen outside, faintly, his voice slightly raised. 

‘It doesn’t sound good,’ He frowned, face folded in concern. Claire hummed, mimicking the concern on his face. Owen turned away door-to-door sales people usually as soon as they said hello … unless they were Girl Scouts. He always ordered cookies, and called out to see what everyone else wanted. Never was that front door answered, and then shut, with the man outside. Forcing a cheerful smile for Bear, Claire kissed his forehead and went to investigate.

‘I just want to see him, Owen,’ The woman begged. Claire didn’t have to guess who she was, she knew without doubt that the woman standing on the lawn was Mary Austin. She was beautiful, petite, brown hair, Bear’s deep blue eyes, even the same slop of a bottom lip. Claire could see why Owen loved her so much. He did love her, once upon a time, before she walked out without warning. Owen, despite what Mary had done, never had a bad thing to say about her. 

Owen’s response was a low growl and simplistic ‘ _no’._ Clicking the door shut behind her, Claire crossed her arms over her chest and side stepped her way beside Owen on the porch. Mary tore her gaze from Owen to stare at Claire in surprise. She fidgeted under the woman’s scrutiny, suddenly uncomfortable that she was being judged. She had intended to check that Owen was fine, finding Mary was definitely unintended. 

‘Please, just for five minutes?’ Mary dragged her eyes from Claire back to Owen, ‘Why won’t you let me see him?’ He reached out for Claire, subconsciously wrapping his arm around her waist. 

Owen rolled his eyes, chortle slipping from his throat. ‘Mary. It’s been seven years, I don’t know what makes you think that I’d open my door with wide, forgiving, arms. It’s not going to happen.’ 

The woman floundered, sputtering for a second before her face crumbled. Claire always thought Bear got everything from his father. He was a spitting image of Owen right down to his toes. The way Mary’s face fell, the way she tried to conceal the emotion - it was Bear, standing right in front of them in the form of a thirty-year-old woman. ‘I’m his mother!’ 

‘No you’re not!’ A little voice cried, drawing the attention of the adults in front of him. The front door was wide open, Bear standing in the gap, dressed in his _Star Wars_ footed pyjamas, Beau at his side. His cheeks were still pink, a tell tale sign of his on coming fever. Claire caught a tear slip down his cheek, conflict fighting in his eyes before it exploded in utter devastation. ‘Claire’s my mom,’ His bottom lip wobbled, words uncertain as he chewed on his index finger, eyes darting between the adults with confusion. ‘You’re my mom, right?’ His lip fell, the dam broke, his eyes flooded with tears, fighting against the light of something unknown. 

Mary stepped forward, her eyes on Bear, wide and blue soaking in her son for the first time since he was born. She moved for him with wonder in her eyes, like a drowning man who was seeing water for the first time. Claire cut her off, breaking away from Owen to step in front of Mary. ‘I think you should leave.’ It was Claire’s turn to growl, the sound half surprising her, as little fingers came into contact with the back of her leg. Bear. His grip was alarmingly tight, his body shaking behind her. She felt as unsteady as he was, frightened in the face of a woman would could ruin everything they had. 

She’d crouched down, peering around Claire’s hip, her lips parted, ready to speak. There was no way Claire would let that woman address her son, not the boy she learned to love even on first meeting, the boy who became the single most important thing in her life. He was _hers_ now, not Mary’s, she gave him up. Claire wanted to ask, the question bitter on her tongue, pulling like an angry dog from the back of her throat, begging to be let out, to bite. Instead, she picked Bear up, just strong enough to lift him, and propped him on her hip.Owen didn’t flinch, standing between Claire and Mary he let the other woman, his girlfriend, his partner - and as far as Owen was concerned, the mother of his child - carry the boy inside the house. 

Bear sobbed against her neck, fat tears mixing with snot and sticking to her skin. She had the strength to carry him to the kitchen counter, and deposit him there. ‘Oh, Bear-Bear,’ Claire soothed as she took a step back to look at his face. Her thumbs tried to wipe away the constant stream of tears, when they wouldn’t stop she moved for his hair, pushing back the golden curls to keep them off his but they wouldn’t stop. ‘Honey, it’s okay.’ 

‘I don’t want to go anywhere else,’ He whimpered, leaning into her couch, green eyes red and puffy. ‘I like it here, I like you. I want to stay. I want you to stay’ She squeezed him into a hug, holding him tightly as she encouraged him to take three deep breaths. 

‘You’re not going anywhere, baby. I’m not going anywhere. I’m your Mama, you’re stuck with me, okay?’ Bear whimpered, locking his arms around her neck as he cried. She kissed his cheeks, two per side, before encouraging a smile from his lips. ‘How’s your head?’ She asked, checking his temperature with the back of her hand. They were expecting this fever, watching it build, torment him. 

Bear fidgeted, ‘It hurts,’ He whimpered, receiving a sympathetic smile from Claire. 

She pressed a kiss to his forehead. ‘Okay, stay here,’ She tapped his leg, ‘Let me go find some Tylenol’. She opened and closed cupboards, pulling drawers open and closing them again. Owen stored medicine in the kitchen _somewhere_ , she just couldn’t remember where. 

They could hear Owen and Mary out on the lawn. They weren’t yelling, not exactly, their words heavy as bricks, sharp as knives. 

‘ _I miss him,’_ She heard Mary shout, the words were wrong, they didn’t belong to her. Owen only reaffirmed that. 

‘ _You miss him? Mary, you don’t_ know _him!’_

Claire caught Bear flinch. ‘You know, Bear, there’s nothing to be worried about. Dad will tell you that, okay, but I need him here to explain it. You’re safe, no one’s going to take you away. No one’s going to take me away, or daddy, or Beau.’ Bear’s spine grew ridged, his eyes suddenly wide as he remembered the dog. Beau was sitting at his feet, leaning against the counter, safe and sound. 

‘I don’t want to be like Luke.’ 

She found the medical supplied in a cupboard above the fridge, the last place she thought of looking. Claire frowned, trying to think a mile a minute, brain storing through every story of every friend Bear had ever told her. What had applied to this moment enough to frighten him half to death. How had it happened to a friend? ‘Which Luke, baby?’ 

‘Skywalker,’ He sputtered green eyes glassy as he watched her measure out his dose. Claire sighed heavily. In any other situation, she would have laughed fondly and kissed him on the head. This, this was different. At the first sound of a _stranger_ being his mother, Bear panicked. In his mind it was like Luke Skywalker finding out his father wasn’t the brave, magnificent man he had been told he was. Another nail in the head; he wasn’t dead either. Bear switched them out, he was Luke, Mary was Anakin turn Darth Vader. 

He didn’t want that story on his shoulders. He was happy with his life the way it was, no interruptions necessary. He didn’t need a trip to The Dark Side … he was seven-years-old. ‘And, and, and … she says she’s my mommy. She could take me away, just ‘cause.’

‘No one’s taking you away, baby. I promise.’ Claire pressed an easy kiss to his head, comfortable with her promising, willing to stick by it no matter what. 

The front door clicked open, Owen’s shoes loud on the floorboards two seconds before it slammed shut. ‘ _FUCK!’_ He shouted, doubling over, hands threaded through his hair, holding on tight. Claire pulled Bear off the counter, propping the boy back on his feet. As soon as he was steady he ran for his father, Owen catching him immediately. Owen held him tight, wrapping him up as snug as he possibly could. 

‘He thinks Mary will take him away.’ Claire filled Owen in, one hand on the man’s shoulder, the other on the boy’s back, as Owen rocked them softly. 

Owen grumbled into the boy’s hair, muttering something that sounded like protests and promises. ‘We’ve talked about your mother, Bear. You know about her,’

Bear buried his face in his father’s neck, his fingers wrapped around Claire’s. ‘But, Claire’s my mommy now. What if my real mom is angry, or jealous and she wants to take me home and, and, and …’ 

‘Not happening, buddy.’ Owen shook his head, Claire took her hand squeezing the boy’s. ‘Unless you would like to see her.’Bear shook his head, mumbling an _‘nah-ah’_ into his father’s shirt, green eyes caught on Claire. He was fading, and fast, Tylenol kicking in, mild panic attack settling in his chest, his body having been on overdrive finally decided to shut down. ‘You’re safe, bug, okay. You’ve got me, you’ve got Nana, and Lorna, _everyone_ at the zoo … but most importantly, you have Claire. And bud…?’ The boy hummed, ‘I think she loves you more than the stars themselves.’

‘Is that true?’ Bear asked her, voice echoed in disbelief. Claire hummed, nodding as she pressed a kiss to his nose. 

It had started to amuse her how quick a little Tylenol took him down. A broken arm couldn’t keep the boy from attempting to climb trees. And yet a little syrup had him out like a light. It was only two in the afternoon but Owen carried his son off to his bedroom and tucked him in. Each adult kissing him on the forehead softly before slipping out. 

‘God, Claire,’ Owen started, hands scrubbing over his face as they stepped into their bedroom. ‘Her heart is in the right place but it’s seven years too late.’ He headed for the bathroom ensuite, intent on washing his face, maybe bleaching his eyes to rid himself of the sight of on old flame. ‘She has another kid, you know, a little girl. How can you say you care, when you’ve moved on with your life? I don’t know what she was thinking.’ Claire flopped down on the bed, thinking about Bear’s fever and how it was likely to affect her. Her hand fell carelessly across her stomach, as a pain started to ebb at her temples and nausea bite at her larynx. 

It is there as she holds herself from the urge to rush to the bathroom and throw up, that she remembers the test, long forgotten on the ensuite counter. Owen had been quiet a minute too long. Claire prayed he didn’t notice. There was no point barging in the bathroom and concealing the small stick, she would only bring attention to herself. Claire counted the seconds, hearing the water run, the towel rail squeak and then silence. 

Owen cleared his throat, causing her eyes to snap open. She rolled her head towards the noise, finding him standing in the bathroom doorway, shoulder leaning on the jam, home pregnancy test in his hand. Claire bit her lip, she didn’t know what to say and she certainly couldn’t read the result from where she was sitting.

She squeezed her eyes shut and counted to three, hoping that if she opened them again he’d be gone, or sitting beside her quietly making a promise for _next time,_ or kissing her as he bounced on the bed, like an over enthusiastic toddler. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore. Claire had been this way and that for weeks, months even. Once upon a time she was certain she’d live out her days childless. But now, now she couldn’t imagine a life without Bear making noise or causing trouble. She wouldn’t like another one, to experience his or her first days, the early stages of their lives before they tuned into rambunctious little adventurers like their brother. 

‘Don’t worry,’ Owen’s voice reached out to her. ‘It’s negative.’ 

Claire sighed a heavy breath full of relief, her arm shifting from her abdomen to her forehead. ‘Oh, thank god,’ She breathed, pulling herself into a sitting position, her eyes struggling to focus on Owen. She could feel upset burning in the back of her head, the urge to get emotional strong. She wouldn’t do it. Owen had enough to think about, he didn’t need her acting like a child on him. 

Something snapped in her, despite her best efforts, when she did meet his green eyes. A hollow sob broke out of her chest, a tear skating down her cheek. ‘Hey,’ Owen jumped from his spot, instantly beside her, one hand around her waist the other on her shoulder. ‘What’s wrong?’ 

Claire shook her head, trying to chase away the emotion that rolled over her. ‘I don’t know,’ She bubbled, laughing at herself through tears as she dropped her head to Owen’s shoulder. She did know, maybe a little. Claire had been conflicted, for days for weeks, everything she thought she knew about herself was being rewritten. Where she had once backed away from the idea of children, she was now reconsidering. ‘Are you disappointed?’ She whimpered, wiping the tears off her face. Claire could only imagine the spark of excitement that lit inside of him when he saw the test on the counter. There was no doubt. If she would let him, they would have enough children to fill a baseball team. Where she had warmed up to the idea of one, anymore than that was slightly frightening.

Owen kissed the top of her head, her temple, her cheek. ‘Hell, no.’ He laughed, watching her reaction flicker across her face. ‘As much as I _love_ the idea of having a baby with you, and Bear getting a sibling. You’re not ready for that. And, if you’re not ready, neither am I.’ She blinked once, twice, her eyelashes wet with tears as she smiled at him. ‘Are you disappointed?’ He asked wiping away a tear with his thumb. 

Claire shook her head, ‘No. I’m just, I don’t know, tense? Bear’s not well, and now Mary. Crying over that test was just … relief.’ She sighed, there was an ache, now that she thought of it. The slightest hint of disappointment. She barely allowed herself to think of a child with Owen, but she had enough proof of how amazing they would be. Now that the window was closed, the possibility unavailable, she felt empty. 

Owen hummed, ‘Good. One thing at a time. For now, you’re Bear’s mom’. His grin was wide, full of humour as he failed to keep away a laugh. The boy hadn’t called her by any title other than Claire, and she wasn’t about to instruct him to do otherwise. Funny, Owen thought, the day Bear granted Claire that sacred reward, would be the day Mary arrived to claim the boy she had left behind. 

Claire laughed, slight catch in her throat as she grinned at Owen. ‘I’m his mom!’

*

_Elation built in his chest, bubbling up into excitement as he was patted on the back by several of his troop. Their ship had docked and they were home to meet his baby boy, one day old. There was nothing on his mind other than getting to the hospital to see Mary and his son._ God, _he missed them. He missed his son before he’d even been born, and Mary’s spitfire personality. She was going to kill him for missing the birth, he just knew it._

_Owen didn’t bother changing into civilian clothes. He went straight to the hospital from the docks, paid the cab driver and clunked down the hospital halls. A nurse stopped him at the nursery. ‘Mary Austin had a baby boy here yesterday. I’m her fiancee … and the father.’ He could help puffing out his chest, proud before he could even lay eyes on his son._

_The nurse withdrew her happy smile, eyeing the man curiously, his neatly pressed DPU. ‘Ms Austin checked herself out … Mr Grady,’ She read his name from the uniform. ‘She, ah, she left the baby here, sir.’_

_‘Is he all right?’ Owen asked, the first question on his mind. Mary wouldn’t go home without their baby unless he needed to stay. The nurse’s smile flickered, a small nod tilted her head. His son was perfectly fine. ‘Can I see him?’ The nurse nodded again, leading Owen down the hall to the small nursery. A large glass window bore sight to a dozen or so cribs, each one containing a squirming newborn, wrapped in hospital blankets, pink or blue tags around their wrists._

_‘That’s your son, right there.’ She pointed to the crib in the middle row, furthest to the left. Owen could hardly see anything and yet his heart was thudding in his chest. This was it. Some mythical tradition that happened when babies were born, something no parent ever shared with the world. His heart was going to beat right out of his chest, and his son was going to know about it. The room was quiet when she pushed the door open. Nothing above slight grunts and whimpers, too small to be considered real. She lead Owen to a nursing chair, requested he sit, his whole body vibrating with excitement before she brought the baby over._

_The first thing Owen noticed about his son, was that he waved at him. From the nurses arms, a tiny little fist waved in the air. He couldn’t see anything else until she lowered the tiny creature into the crook of his arm. Owen cried in that moment. Silent tears streaking his face as he peered at the small features of his_ son. 

_‘Has she named him yet?’ He asked, curious. He didn’t know protocol or rules. He had siblings far younger than him, but still not old enough to remember the details._

_‘Ms Austin did not name him, no.’_

_‘Where is she?’_

_‘I don’t think you understood Mr Grady, Mary checked herself out, against doctor’s orders. She_ left _. I don’t think she’s coming back.’His heart dropped into his stomach, panic settling in as he looked up at the nurse wide eyed. ‘Your son has been in hospital care without a parent almost practically since he was born, had you not arrived within the next few days we would have been in the position to call child services.’_

_They let him bottle feed his son once Owen recovered from his initial reaction of Mary’s absence. He marvelled at his tiny son’s size, the infant only as long as Owen’s forearm. He was convinced Mary would come back. The girl had always been a little flighty, but seemed settled with him. She would come home, come back to their son. He called his mother after that. She almost cried at the sound of his voice and the revelation that he was at the hospital_ with his son. _She had feared the worst for her grandson, waiting for Owen to come back from sea before she told him that his home on base had been emptied, everything but a crib and change table in the attic._

_Mary was gone. Heather feared, with her grandson._

_They wanted to monitor the newborn for an extra few days. Standard procedure. Owen refused to leave his side. There for every feeding, diaper change, and cry in the night. He sweet talked the nurses, cozying up tot he head of the board, and found himself with an empty room. Owen had no idea what he was doing. The basics of newborn care was lost on him. He tried to read_ What to Expect When You’re Expecting _when Mary first told him she was pregnant. He put it down, never to return again. He was helpless, leaving the giggling nurses to roll their eyes and mock his inability. It was unprofessional, but he bought them down to a carefree level. He didn’t mind them mocking him, not really, they_ were _trying to help._

_They needed a name before he left. The boy grizzled, grumbled and grunted. Owen didn’t know what possessed him in that moment, but ‘_ Bear _’ was out of his mouth faster than he could think._ Bear Cyrus Grady. _A name fit for a grizzly little Grady._

_Taking his son home was surreal. His base house was empty, forcing Owen back into his mother’s home. It was only for support, for guidance, until he could collect some new furniture and settle in. He knew, three days in, that he wouldn’t return to the Navy. He was here, for tiny defenceless Bear, he couldn’t leave._

_It took a week of no sleep, bottles, diapers, andtiny windows of playtime for the hollow feeling of abandonment to settle in. Owen brushed it off as sympathetic. That was how his son would be feeling if he had a sense of what was going on around him. But, it was Owen who felt lost an alone, sleeping in his old room of his family home. His mother was supportive, but he couldn’t help but feel ridiculous._

_Owen didn’t need anything more than watching his son grow, promising the little boy, in the dark of the night, that he would be everything he could be for his boy._

_*_

‘ _Mommy!’_ Bear’s voice rattled down the hallway and chased down the stairs. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She raced for the stairs, arm pulling on the rail to hoist herself up. Claire half crashed into his bedroom. His whole body sagged at the sight of her. ‘I thought they were going to take you away!’ He was panting, out of breath, still fighting the nightmare that gripped him. 

‘I’m right here, I’m right here’. She fell beside him, pulling the boy into her lap. He was drenched in sweat, clothes soaked. Owen stormed in seconds later. Bear wasn’t the kind of kid to call out in his sleep, screaming bloody murder. To hear it had set both adults on high alert. She mouthed over Bear’s head, as she pushed back his sweat drenched hair, that he was soaked, to Owen. 

Without a word his father picked him up, the boy getting too old, and carried him down the hall. Claire found a set of clean pyjamas, and stripped the boys bed. She could hear Owen down the hall, encouraging Bear into a cool shower. She tossed Owen the new set of clothes as she passed their shared room, carting Bear’s sheets toward the laundry. 

When she returned Bear was sitting in the middle of the bed, fingers in his mouth, fresh tears on his cheeks. He was hiccoughing, the sound growing louder once she stepped in the room. ‘Oh, Bear,’ Claire sighed, joining the boy as Owen attempted to towel dry his hair. ‘What’s wrong?’ 

He hiccoughed around a slight whimper, ‘I don’t feel good’. Poor kid had delusions racing around in his head, playing with his better judgement. Claire had never seen him this upset, not any more than a slight whimper. ‘I’m not even worried about that lady,’ He sighed, not giving Mary her name, ‘Is just my head and tummy.’ 

His parents were sympathetic. Owen went to collect a DVD from downstairs, something _other than Star Wars_ he promised Claire, although she wasn’t confident. Bear curled up against the pillows, nestling himself right in the middle, she laid down next to him, their faces level. He curled his hand into her hair, finding a soft straight before fixating on it.

They needed to talk about Mary. Just now when Bear was so under the weather, his emotions compromised. He wasn’t going to make any sense of them anyway, there was no use in pushing the issue. 

Claire watched his face. His fever bitten cheeks, and long eyelashes, the emerald green of his eyes and the freckles that bridged his nose. He was _hers._ Completely, whole heartedly, one-hundred-and-ten per cent, _hers._ He didn’t belong to her biologically, or even legally, but she was committed, dedicated, completely indebted to him. He held her heart and soul in the palms of his little hands, and cradled it so carefully. Claire Dearing didn’t deserve Bear Grady, not in her opinion of the matter. She would ensure, for the rest of her days, that she treated him like a king, just to prove that she could have him. 

‘I love you,’ She whispered to him, dragging a finger down his nose, as the boy’s eyelashes fluttered.

‘I know,’ Bear sighed as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

Claire gasped in mock surprise, ‘Did you just Han Solo me?’ He nodded his head softly, slight giggle on his lips, glee pulling at the corners of his eyes. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t going to post this update this week. But, look, it’s finished, and y’all may as well have it. 
> 
> This is it, the end of Lions, Tigers, and Bears. Which makes me a little sad, but also happy because it’s finished. This fic makes me laugh, it was supposed to be about Owen, a single dad, but turned out more like Claire learning about family and how adorable Bear is. 
> 
> A special shout out to @amelias-obsessions the lucky chicken that got to listen to me whine about this fic from the very beginning. And also, for her help with naming Bear. And to @captainandbucky who spared her time to help me when I needed a hand and pre-read the last few chapters. Plus all others who probably got me complaining in their IMs more than once, and everyone whose read, commented, reblogged, liked, kudos’d, added something hilarious in their tags and just so much as expressed their enjoyment.

The afternoon was soft, the weather warm, autumn slowly approaching them in an orange haze. Claire found herself there, tucked away on the porch of a practical stranger’s North Carolina home. It was coincidence that a business meeting brought her there for a few days. Rather than count down the seconds and hours until she got to go home, Claire acted on instinct. 

Owen and Bear had taught her a lot about the wilderness, about hunting down prey and waiting to lure in fish. They’d taught her to read terrain and scope out camping sites. Bear was even becoming a boy wonder where it concerned the stars, tugging on her sleeves before bed, just to stare up at the skies. 

This was different. This was something Claire knew all on her own. People. She had a particular way with persuasion … and getting exactly what she wanted. Sitting on Mary Austin’s front porch, her daughter playing in the grass only a few feet away. The front door banged softly, screen closing behind the woman as she carried two mugs of tea towards Claire. Steam curled up into the air, adding to the tender warmth. 

‘You’re a smart woman, Ms Dearing. I, ah, I don’t know how to thank you, I wasn’t the right person for those boys. They deserve better. I’m glad they found you.’ Claire smiled softly, thanking the woman on a quiet voice as she accepted the mug politely. Mary was sweet, she was gentle and kind, she was loving. Claire had already been there for an hour, if she came away with anything it was that Mary loved Owen, loves Bear, and undeniably loves her new daughter. She just wasn’t ready. That was something Claire could identify with. ‘I’ll sign the papers for you, honestly. Thank you.’ 

All Claire wanted was paperwork signed, something Owen didn’t know about, something she wanted to do on her own, calmly before involving the man. He happened to get a little hotheaded when Mary was involved. ‘If you don’t mind my asking, what happened? Why’d you leave?’ It was burning a hole in her lip, the question rattling around in her head since she’d first heard of Bear’s absent mother. She and Mary were the same age, although they did not share experiences, Claire felt like she could understand her, if she just _spoke_ to her. 

Mary sighed, settling into her chair, eyes on her daughter in the yard. ‘I was terrified. Owen was lovely, perfect, but he was at sea a lot. We had known each other a long time, before he joined the Navy and even after it wasn’t really a problem. But, I was so young, living in a house the military issued him. We weren’t married, I had no claim, if something went wrong they wouldn’t tell me … they didn’t even want me living in the house. I felt completely isolated when he wasn’t there. And then, I found out I was pregnant. He’d been gone two weeks, wouldn’t come back for several months. I was a wreck.’ Mary shook her head, small laugh on her lips despite the emotion she was trying to keep back, ‘Owen was so excited. I couldn’t help but feel dread. When the baby was born,’ She never called Bear by his name, be it disassociation, or she had something else in mind, Claire didn’t know. She didn’t ask. ‘… I panicked. Owen wasn’t there. He promised me, for months, that he would be there, and he wasn’t. I couldn’t do it by myself. I left. As soon as I was steady on my feet, I left. I went home, finished my degree, got a job. I was going to come back, I swear. I just, I needed stability, proof that I was making the right decision, that I could do things on my own. And then … seven years passed.’ 

Seven years passed and in that time Mary met someone else, an old high school flame who nurtured her the way she needed. Who loved her, married her, promised never to be gone for too long, and ultimately gave her the security to not abandon her second child. Alice was two. 

‘I wish Owen was as forgiving as you,’ Mary sighed. ‘I really am sorry for leaving especially how I left. I should have called him, or said something, I just. I was too scared to properly think.’ She had been diagnosed with post-natal depression, which Claire saw as the driving force that finally pushed Mary out the door and as far away as she could potentially get. 

‘Bear is all that matters now. I don’t want to erase you for him. I’m sure he’ll be curious one day, I just need you to promise that you’re receptive to that when it happens.’ Owen would call her weak, in good humour, for holding a soft spot for Mary. Claire couldn’t help it. Giving the same situation at twenty-three, she likely would have behaved in a similar way. 

Mary nodded, smile gracing her face, ‘I promise’. 

*

Claire would never get over how noisey, yet simultaneously quiet her boys could be, when they wanted. Depending on the week, and the workload, she was home before them. They always managed to stumble through the door, boots and runners, Beau’s tail wagging erratically, banging against the wall. 

If someone told her three years ago that she’d be curled up on the couch on a Tuesday evening, finishing the last of her reports before being bombarded by a nine-year-old, a dog, and her _boyfriend_ , Claire would have called them crazy. But, it was exactly how it happened. She was lucky some nights if she managed to put her computer aside before Bear came barrelling towards her, school bag dropped somewhere between the front door and Claire. 

He didn’t always run to her the second he got home, and some afternoons she was the one to pick him up. Without a doubt, most nights, as Owen busied himself in the kitchen with dinner, or on the phone with a take out menu, Bear cuddled up to Claire and told her about his day. 

She knew the affection wouldn’t last. That one day she’d be _gross_ and _uncool_. She took every moment with every ounce of strength, readily accepting the love and affection he wanted to shower her with, while he still wanted to do it. Although she was excited to see who he became as he turned from boy into young man, Claire also wanted to bottle up his cuddly youth and keep it forever. 

* 

She brushed her teeth in deep thought, the world outside the window dark and asleep, Bear down the hall turning off the light, Owen finishing the last of his reports. ‘Hey, what’s this?’ Owen’s voice reached her, body turning up in the door way, paper in his hand. 

‘Oh shit,’ Claire spat, rinsing the toothpaste from her mouth. ‘I was going to talk to you about that.’ 

‘It has Mary’s name on it, Claire’. He looked confused more than anything, winkle burying itself in his forehead. ‘Where’d you get it?’ 

‘From my lawyer, she drew it up for me before I went to North Carolina. I - I wanted to act on something while I had the opportunity which is why I hadn’t spoken with you about it. I didn’t know if it was the right time.’ Owen’s confusion only grew as Claire stumbled around her words. Her trip to North Carolina was three weeks ago. She should have brought it up before he found it. ‘It’s a Parenting Order,’ She sighed. ‘I was - I don’t know thinking about you and Bear and _us._ It’s been three years and I can’t sign any of his school or medical files. I’m not his legal guardian. This - this makes me his legal guardian.’ 

Claire explained with uncertain words that she had already been to see Mary, that the woman agreed easily to sign the papers. She didn’t know if she wanted to approach Owen about it. It had just been an idea that she took on board when the opportunity was only a few steps away. 

‘You want to adopt Bear?’ Owen asked, voice a little breathless as he followed Claire out from the ensuite and into the bedroom. 

Claire sighed, ‘Adoption is a little more complicated’. She dropped to their bed, unable to read his reaction, while Owen stood a little to her right. ‘If I were to adopt Bear, not only would it cost a _ridiculous_ amount of money we can’t afford. But, he would be separated from Mary. Anything he is legally entitled to from her and her family will be erased the second those forms are filed. And, I know you don’t care, but Bear might. We don’t know that he’s going to turn thirteen, fifteen, eighteen and want to meet her. He’s allowed to meet her. If I file for adoption that creates a tension between Mary and us, between Bear and Mary, potentially Bear and myself. The Parenting Orders will state that I am second in line as his guardian. If anything were to happen to you, he’ll still be with me, no ifs ands or buts. It will also keep Mary in his life, if he so wants her.’ 

Owen chuckled, arms crossed over his chest, legal form on the bed next to her. ‘You’ve really thought about this?’ 

Claire shrugged, ‘I’ve been thinking about it since that afternoon you sat me down and told me how big of a deal it was for Bear to have a motherly figure in his life’. A smile fluttered across her cheeks, flickering with the rising blush. She scrubbed at her face, sighing softly with the exhaustion that was slowly starting to pull at her eyelids. ’I just want what’s best for him.’ Claire told Owen as he disappeared for a second. 

‘Good, me too,’ He whispered. Owen dropped down onto the floor in front of her, perched on one knee, ring box in his hand. ‘You’re the best. God, you’re like the most expensive toy in the shop. You’re something exquisite and you’re way out of our league. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Bear and I.’ She should see his hands shaking, a peculiar vulnerability in his eyes. It was enough to weaken her knees and to halt her heart. ‘I would be honoured if you would agree to be my wife.’ Claire slipped off the edge of the bed, falling to her knees in his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck as she peppered his face with kisses. 

‘You are ridiculous,’ She laughed against his face, enjoying the scratch of his stubble against her chin as his mouth chased hers, echoing in the pecks on his face, before he caught her lips in a passionate kiss. 

‘Is that a yes?’ Owen asked, after a minute. They had readjusted themselves on the floor, Owen no longer on one knee, as Claire sat in his lap, her legs locked around his waist, her hands in his hair. His smile was impossibly wide, hers mirroring his face as she nodded slowly but surely. ‘Is it okay if I ask you again, in a week when we go on that hike? Bear’s gonna kill me if I don’t do it like we planned.’ With her arms around his neck, Claire threw her head back with an uncontrolled laugh. Of course he had planned to do this under Bear’s instruction, likely the boy’s insistence too. She giggled softly as he took her hand in his, sliding the ring on her finger just for the night. 

*

He proposed properly, as Bear wanted, the boy none the wiser as they hiked the Iron Mountain Trail as the sun rose one morning. Reaching the peak Claire stopped to admire the views, looking out a their terrain around them. Bear stood at her hip, his height, at nine, almost reaching her shoulders. She couldn’t believe how tall he was getting, terrified of the teenage growth spurt they had to look forward to.

She waited one beat, and then two, after Owen stepped away from her his hand leaving the small of her back as they watched the sun rise over dry country. Bear knew the second she turned, the second a gasp slipped past her lips, and the silly grin on his fathers face, that Owen had already proposed. He let his father repeat the speech and for Claire’s soft yes, the ring on his mother’s finger before he said anything. 

His deflated, ‘You already asked,’ had Claire tucking him under her arm and squeezing tight, as she giggled lightly and called his father out. There was no use lying to Bear, pretending like she hadn’t known for a week, when she had. The boy laughed, rolling his eyes at their theatrics. He appreciated the gesture, their recreating the moment just for him, because he wanted to be a part of it. 

* 

They got married in the middle of spring a year later. Claire wanted nothing less than an outdoor wedding, her first dance as Owen’s wife held under the stars. Her first dance as Bear’s mother, the Parental Orders filed and approved, with the boy telling her what constellations were above their heads as they moved across the dance floor. 

The night was cool and crisp, the air filled with the scent of flowers, faerie lights twinkling above their heads. She counted each and every one of her lucky stars that night as Owen told her over and over again how much he loved her. How much she had saved him when he didn’t even know he was drowning. Claire was thankful that he had opened her eyes, that Bear extended her experience in the realm of the living. 

‘Thank you for taking a chance on me,’ She whispered into his ear, knowing in the early days he had been flighty and hesitant. She wasn’t the best bet in the ring, but Owen stuck it out, despite her caution, while Claire waited for the other shoe to drop. Turned out, she had both feet planted firmly on the ground. 

*

They cut their honeymoon short. Claire’s schedule for it anyway. She was too sick to get out of bed, let alone fly. They remained buried under the covers of their Hawaiian hotel room, and not in the fun way. Owen rubbed her back and ran her a bath when needed. They occasionally broke out for a walk when Claire found a little strength, but they never got far. 

‘This is karma for not bringing Bear with us,’ Claire groaned one evening as Owen helped her settle into a chair on their first floor patio. The boy was devastated that he wouldn’t be travelling with his parents for their honeymoon, and that instead he would spent the week with his aunt. He loved Lorna, but not as much as he loved the prospect of new hiking ground, and volcanos. 

Owen wanted to take her to the doctor, but Claire refused, insisting it was only food poisoning that she would eventually move on from. He wasn’t convinced. She pushed herself harder on those days,feigning good health enough to get Owen off her back. It went too far when he suggested a light hike and Claire agreed. He knew she was dehydrated and that her nausea hadn’t passed but he let her hike. Owen should have known better, which was something he admitted to himself _after_ she fainted in the middle of the Hawaiian jungle.

She groaned at him when she came too in the hospital, grumbling like Bear with her distaste. She rolled her eyes lazily when he called her a stupid pet name and stroked her hair. His grin was irreplaceable, something Claire had seen on his face a number of times, reserved for special occasions. She had done something remarkable to earn that grin. Whatever it was she hoped it had nothing to do with the IV in her arm. ‘How long have you condemned me to this hell for?’ She asked, entwining her hand in his, watching at their rings, brand new, glistened in the dull light. 

Owen was fixated on the same small detail, thankful, that after four years she was officially his to pester for the rest of eternity. ‘Until you learn to look after yourself,’ Which was a lie. Claire was always in tune with how she was feeling, how he was, how Bear was. She knew what to do if someone was sick. It was likely because it was their honeymoon that she tried so hard to brush asidethe nausea that wouldn’t let her out of bed. Owen chuckled, ‘Just the night, they want to monitor you’. His grin hadn’t wavered, the pleasant joy was starting to bother her. 

‘Why are you so amused?’ She lifted her hand to brush against his jaw, Owen taking hold of her wrist. Something sparkled behind his green eyes, excitement and admiration all rolled into one. She wanted to drown in it, right then and there, knowing she would be happy forever if he would always look at her like that. 

Owen kissed the palm of her hand, as he held it against his face, watching as her blue eyes tried to get to the punch line before he delivered it himself. His smile widened, something Claire thought impossible as he breathed easily through his next words; ‘You’re pregnant’. Her eyes grew wide, even in her still groggy state as she stared at her husband’s wide grin. He nodded enthusiastically when she whispered a quiet ‘really?’ Squeezing her hand tight with his. 

*

Owen was nothing but fretful while she was pregnant. He worried over every single little thing. It had been wonderful at first, to see him so attentive. Until it got annoying. Claire managed to direct his fussing towards the study, encouraging him to finish the room for the baby. It worked a treat. He buried himself in fixing up what was left of the renovation he started when he bought the house before Bear’s first birthday. He almost painted the room pink, convinced the baby Claire was carrying was a girl. She persuaded him otherwise, her convictions set on a boy. Neither wanted to know until he/she was born, Claire intrigued by the element of surprise, although slightly frustrated at the same time. She didn’t like being unprepared, so they entrusted Owen’s mother and Karen with the sex of their baby, allowing the two family members to guide them, albeit blindly. 

Bear had been hesitant with the idea at first, uncertain towards gaining a sibling. He warmed to it quickly. Excited at the idea of a brother and sister, someone he could educate on all the things he deemed important in the world. 

Claire tried to encourage Owen to think of names. Bear too, including the boy as much as she could.Owen was useless, and completely unhelpful, frustrating his wife to no end with silly, unusable suggestions. It got worse when Bear joined in on the game, both boys certainly desperate for exile. For some reason it was funny, considered _family tradition_ to carry on an animal theme in baby names. Claire didn’t want to hear a word of it. 

Bear succumbed easily, finding it hard to annoy Claire on purpose. He took her side more often than not, curling up against her side, his head resting on her ever expanding belly. ‘Can we call him Harris?’ Bear asked on a slight whisper, ‘Dad likes it, I promise’. 

The book she was reading had been discarded, her hands instead running through Bear’s hair. He was ten, the curls still unruly, promising never to be tamed. She couldn’t believe four years had passed and she was still able to curl up with him before bed, the boy still allowing her to play with his messy hair. 

Claire hummed, rolling the name across her tongue. If she was being honest, she hadn’t thought of anything, nothing worth repeating, nothing worth her coming child. ‘Well, now, is there anything else Dad likes?’ 

Bear shrugged, ‘I don’t think so. He just doesn’t want to admit that there’s only one name on his list, and that it’s for a boy’. Bear was right, in every sense. Owen the mischievous mastermind that he was, far too happy to push her buttons and kiss her cheek at the same time only had one name in his head. 

When their son was born, at 2:03 in the morning on the first week of December, they named him Harris. 

* 

It was warm out, the kind of weather that made their skin sticky and throats dry. No one complained as they pushed up the mountain path, boots kicking at the dirt. Bear walked ahead, twelve-years-old and already surpassing Claire in height. He always pushed forward ahead of the group, scouting the best spots to stop if they needed. 

Owen was next to her, only a step ahead, Harris strapped to his back, the little boy, almost two giggling wildly every time they so much as passed a tree, or Bear turned to call over his shoulder. She reached out occasionally, to grab her son’s bare foot, squeezing him softly as a reassurance that he was real. 

Claire had so often wondered if she was daydreaming in the last seven years. Caught somewhere between her office and a boring meeting, wondering how different life could be. She squeezed her boys tight when she got the opportunity; Owen, Bear and Harris. She couldn’t believe there were there and they were hers. She didn’t know what she would do without her adventure boys, or where she would be. Claire hit the jackpot, winning not one, but three. 

Owen spoke over and over about how he didn’t see himself as worthy of her, of everything Claire gave him and Bear. But, as she sat on the beach, watching them surf, drove Bear to soccer practice, and to school, as they all hiked every weekend Claire couldn’t help but think that she was the lucky one. Without Owen she wouldn’t have Bear, and without her love for Bear, Harris wouldn’t exist. There would be no second pregnancy, no new life growing under her skin as her eldest son mapped out the terrain, checking that the intermediate track wouldn’t be too much exertion for Claire who should have been taking it easy. There would be no Owen and his wayward hand straying to the small of her back, guiding her subconsciously even though he had enough to worry about, toddler on his back. 

Without them, she simply wouldn’t be there, wouldn’t have that life - or one at all. Claire would likely still be hidden inside her cold apartment, too headstrong to get involved with anyone seriously, especially someone who would break down her views on family, and nurture a growing, healthy one, by her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a pleasure writing for you all. I hope this last chapter covers enough bases. I will not be taking prompts for Bear, but feel free to send in headcanons.


End file.
